


Where the Crop Circles Grow

by NovelistServant



Series: Farmer AU: We're Not in the Woods Anymore [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe, Mystery Trio, farmer au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25632709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovelistServant/pseuds/NovelistServant
Summary: When things get out of hand at the Pines’ family farm, Ford asks an old college buddy to assist investigating anomalies and Stan hires a farmhand. Who knew asking for help would actually get you somewhere?For lemonfodrizzleart over at Tumblr. Part of her Farmer AU and featuring her OC, Jackie Asante.
Relationships: Fiddleford H. McGucket/Ford Pines, Stan Pines/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Farmer AU: We're Not in the Woods Anymore [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858096
Comments: 16
Kudos: 15





	1. You're Hired!

“Jackie, was it?” Stan repeated as he rocked in his chair, the shade feeling comfortable with the warm summer’s day baking everything that dared to escape the air conditioning.

“Yes, sir.” The woman repeated. Her ankles were crossed as she sat in her rocking chair, her hands on her lap. Nerves hindered her normal behavior; Never in a million years would she sit like this, unless she really wanted a job and wanted to impress her potential employer.

The man in a gray t-shirt (it might have been white at some point), dirty jeans, and boots raised an eyebrow at her and waved the response away with a strong hand. “First off, there’s no need for all that sir-stuff, okay? I ain’t that old.”

Jackie let out a good-natured snort and smiled more relaxed. “Okay.” She sat a little bit more relaxed, now one knee over the other, and she rocked a little in her blue-jeans, white t-shirt, and light-purple jacket, the bottoms of the side tied together and her sleeves rolled up.

Stan looked at her, reading her as if she was a book, and he instantly knew he would like her. Something in the sparkle in her dark eyes, something in the way she held herself up promised the whole world that she was way more capable than what people initially believed and she was going to rub it in their faces.

Okay, now that he got that out of the way, what was he supposed to do now? Sixer probably had a pamphlet full of things to do or a check-list in his brain of what to ask her, but that genius got distracted by some new freaky thing and ran off into the woods, but not without telling Stan to interview the potential farmhand. Why’d he have to do this? It was all Sixer’s idea. While a farmhand was probably a good idea, Stan would’ve hoped they could save the dough by making Ford and his friend from college work, but both brothers knew that wasn’t going to happen. Well, she was here. Might as well get her a drink.

“Want a soda or somethin’?” Stan asked as he stood and stretched his arms over his head, his shirt stretched tightly over his gut and strong chest.

Jackie shrugged with a smile and stood. “Sure, thanks.”

Stan waved towards himself casually, signalling her to follow him, and he led the way inside the house. Jackie followed him and allowed herself to take in the space without being too nosy. In front of the doorway was a big living room with a yellow-plaid couch and matching armchair, a card table, a wood-burning stove, and even a TV. An owl-themed tick-tock clock hooted the time (11:00am) with eleven wheezy hoots. Stan led the way to the left, the opposite direction of the stairs leading up to the second floor, and into the kitchen.

Jackie’s face flinched a little bit at the state of the room, a big mess all over the table and every square inch of counter decorated with books, food, and dirty dishes. Jackie stood at the doorway and couldn’t help but notice a picture of a family hanging by her head. A man with a straw hat and sunglasses stood tall and strong behind his family, while his wife sat with a set of twins in her arms, hugging them with a big smile. A third boy, about three years older than the twins, smiled in front of the father and besides the mother. 

“Well, this here’s the kitchen.” Stan narrated pointlessly to fill the air, stealing Jackie from her thoughts. His head was in the fridge but he soon emerged with two glass bottles of Pitt soda. He even popped one open for Jackie before giving it to her. “Livin’ room’s just by the door, then past the stairs is two bedrooms, one’s a master with a bathroom, and then upstairs is the attic and two more bedrooms.”

“Nice place.” Jackie complimented.

“Thanks.” Stan said after a sip of soda. “Pa left it to me and my brother. We got another brother, Shermie, but he’s workin’ for a bank in California. Got a kid now n' everythin’.”

“Ah, somebody’s an uncle.” The dark-skinned woman commented with a smile.

Stan grinned proudly and seemed to have straightened his stance just a little bit. “Yup. Anyways, what made you wanna work here?”

Jackie shrugged. “I’ve always liked the fresh air n’ workin’ hard. My mama used to say sittin’ still’s a sin.”

Stan smiled in agreement. He was right; he liked this girl. “Okay, so what can you do?”

Jackie took a second to think of what she can do that applies to a farm. Really, in her mind the list kept growing. She couldn’t think of a single thing she couldn’t do if she really tried, so she gave him a sly smile and said, “Anythang.”

Stan barked a laugh and freed a finger from holding the bottle to point at her. “I like your style! Alright, so how much you want a month?”

“Eight-hundred.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think that’s a little high?” Not that he was worried; he liked to negotiate.

“Don’t you think I need enough to rent a place?” Jackie returned.

Stan snorted. “If you’re looking for a place to stay, we’ve got three… well, two bedrooms we aren’t usin’. You could stay with us rent-free for cheaper pay.”

“Well how much you willin’ to fork over?”

Stan grinned. Yup, he liked her. He wasn’t going to lose such a promising worker. “Five-hundred a month.”

“Deal.” Jackie held out a hand to shake.

Stan grasped it and shook. “Then you’re hired. You can have tomorrow to move in and…”

“No, I can start work tomorrow.” Jackie insisted. “Just give me this afternoon.”

Stan grinned. “Alright, fine. You’ll start first thing in the mornin’ tomorrow. You’ll know when. Go get what you need and I’ll show you your room and give you the full tour of the farm. There’s a stable and chicken coop and barn and fields full of work, as you saw comin’ in. You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Stan exited the kitchen, giving Jackie a good look at the dirty kitchen. She sneered playfully to herself, “I can see that,” and followed her new boss out of the house.

* * *

Ford was tired, but satisfied with his success. He collapsed into a rocking chair on the porch and glanced down at the photos in his hands; that polaroid Stanley got him for Hanukkah was being used well. It was so rare to get pictures of the floating eyes so crystal clear, mostly only seeing them at night, but these were lurking in the shadows of the overgrown trees and bush of the woods, and by sheer luck and perfect timing on Ford’s part, he got what he wanted.

The six-fingered investigator pulled out his journal from his messenger bag and bookmarked a page to fill out later with the photos. As he closed the book and became lost in thought at the sight of his golden handprint, the screen door opened and Stanley poked his head in. “Hey, dinnertime, nerd.”

“Coming,” Ford said as his brother left and he got to his feet, suddenly very hungry and ready to eat so he could finish his work for today.

While Stanley sat in a chair, rubbed his hands together, and smacked his lips at the table, Ford stood at the doorway with his jaw hanging like an executed criminal. Laid out on the big table in the kitchen was a plate full of fried chicken, collard greens, a skillet of cornbread, mashed potatoes with cheese, and unless Ford’s nose was playing tricks on him, there was something made of chocolate in the oven. Even more surprising than the mouth-watering meal was the stranger in the house. 

Untying a long apron, a dark-skinned woman with short black hair was standing by the hooks on the walls for keys and hats. She smiled as she hung her apron up and said, “Wash up, Mr. Pines. Oh, excuse me. Dr. Pines.” She added playfully.

Ford snorted. Apparently Stanley already told her about his twelve PhDs. “Please, call me Ford, ma’am.” He requested as he went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. “Let me guess… you decided to hire Ms. Jackie Asante, Knucklehead?”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad idea.” Stan quipped as Jackie sat in the chair on his right. He threw her a wink, which her eyes sparkled at.

“Quite the contrary, considering she clearly sees fit to celebrate Thanksgiving any day of the year.” Ford said as he sat in the chair across the table from his twin.

Jackie smiled with hot cheeks and shrugged. “Clearly you’ve been starving out here. Well, you can forget TV dinners and take-out for awhile. At least not while I’m breathing.”

“Now hold up, take-out’s delicious.” Stan defended as he brought a chicken leg up to his lip and bit down with a beautiful crunch. His eyes grew wide and he sagged in relief and delight. He munched on his chicken happily and managed to wheeze out between bites. “Fuck take-out.”

“Stanley,” Ford scolded lightly before trying his dinner, but he was amazing and started mumbling swears like a sailor.

Meanwhile, Jackie grinned proudly into her cup of water and started to cut up the cornbread. Maybe getting this job was a good idea after all.


	2. It's Been Too Quiet

A loud scream Jackie wasn’t prepared for disturbed her slumber and made her jump, lying on her stomach and propping the upper-half of her body up with her hands pushing against the mattress. She calmed down as she became used to the crowing of the rooster… or an opera singer dying… one of the two. Jackie relaxed and fell back on the bed. So that’s what Stan had meant yesterday.

Looking forward to her first day, Jackie hopped out of bed and started to get dressed in blue jeans and a white t-shirt with boots. No sense taking a shower now since she would get sweaty and gross later; she’d treat herself to a bath after dinner, like she did yesterday. After a quick brush through her jet-black hair, she took in a deep breath and gazed around her bedroom.

Stan said it was a guest bedroom, not that they ever had any guests, but Ma had this part of the house built in with the idea of visiting grandchildren. So Jackie was granted a small bedroom with a comfortable bed with an old quilt, a dresser, a nightstand, and a Jack and Jill bathroom with the opposite bedroom promised to be Fiddleford’s when he came up here from Tennessee. Jackie, who didn’t come here with much, was comfortable and anything she couldn’t fit in the nightstand and dresser she kept in boxes under the bed.

Jackie finally emerged from her bedroom and peered up and down the short hallway. She listened and could hear the shower running. As she journeyed to the kitchen her nose picked up the beautiful aroma of coffee and she instantly saw the pot filling up and heard the boiling water when she entered the empty kitchen. Whoever was in the shower must have started the coffee so it would be ready by the time they were done. Seeing no indication that breakfast was going to be made and given what she learned yesterday (that the boys couldn’t cook to save their lives), Jackie rubbed her hands together and started to hunt for ingredients to make biscuits.

About fifteen minutes later, Stan came out of the bathroom with a puff of water vapor behind him, shaking his mullet dry with a towel, his maroon robe wrapped loosely around him. He hummed to himself drowsily as he strode to the kitchen, but his not-so-keen senses heightened as he swore he could smell something cooking. Bacon? His mouth watering, Stan picked up the pace a bit without running and saw Jackie working hard in the kitchen. Holy Moses, who knew he had hired the best cook in Oregon?

“‘Mornin’.” He greeted casually.

Jackie glanced at him and her face dropped in shock. His toned, hairy chest was half-exposed, his legs bare below his knees apart from his slippers, and he had a smile on his face alongside those nice pair of brown eyes, the kind of smile you naturally mimic. It’s more contagious than the flu. Jackie caught it and returned it. “G’mornin’. Slept well?”

Stan shrugged. “Yeah, pretty good. You? Bed okay?”

“Yeah, it’s real comfortable.” Jackie replied. “Fix your coffee and sit down, biscuits are almost ready.”

Stan threw his towel onto the back of his chair and went to the cupboard above the coffee machine for a mug. Standing right next to Jackie and the stove, he saw a skillet full of sausage gravy being cooked, a pan sizzling with bacon, and she was currently cracking eggs into a bowl while another pan heated up. Stan marveled at how one person can keep an eye on so many things at once.

“You like your eggs scrambled?” Jackie asked.

Stan shrugged. “Sure.” His favorite way to eat eggs was over-easy, but hey food is food. The farmer can force anything down his gullet if needed. He watched as Jackie whisked six eggs in a big bowl and added previously shredded cheese, some chopped basil, and a small splosh of milk. Stan raised an eyebrow at that. “Why add milk?”

“Makes the eggs fluffier.” Jackie explained as she threw in some salt and pepper, whisked some more, and then poured the eggs into the small pan. The little hand-timer dinged and Jackie slipped on some oven mitts to pull out the pan of biscuits. Stan’s jaw dropped as the new farm-woman had a tray of twelve beautiful, fluffy, golden biscuits. She carried the tray to the table, where a dishcloth was folded to protect the wood, and she sat the tray down and used a little brush to paint melted butter on top. Stan licked his lips and reached to grab one, but Jackie smacked his hand and said, “Wait, mister, if you eat ‘em now you’ll burn yourself.”

Stan snorted as she turned back to the oven to flip the eggs with a rubber spatula and Stan sat with his mug of black coffee. Ford entered the room, yawning, but fully dressed. He had a rolled-up newspaper under his arm and he dozily threw it to Stan, who caught it one-handed like it was a baseball and opened it. “‘Mornin’, Sixer.”

Ford grunted as he grabbed a mug like a drunk man, poured some coffee, sweetened it with some sugar and milk, and gulped it down. Jackie watched him with a raised eyebrow as she moved the bacon onto a plate. Some people simply could not function in the morning. Ford poured a second cup, sweetened it, and sighed after a few sips, and then sat in his chair to breathe and obtain his necessary caffeine. 

“How long before he can talk again?” Jackie asked as she sat the bacon down and quickly moved to the eggs.

“I’d say two full cups for half-baked sentences n’ a full pot for him to function like a normal human bein’.” Stan sneered playfully as he read the headline.

“Har, har.” Ford said sarcastically. He then blinked a few times at the realization of another feast before him. Jackie set the big bowl of cheesy scrambled eggs down and began to move the gravy to another bowl. “Holy Moses, Jackie, you didn’t have to…”

“What else am I payin’ her for?” Stan asked but took the time to throw her a wink so she knew he was joking.

Jackie snorted and sat the bowl of sausage gravy down and made herself a mug of coffee. “Since none of you know how to cook and I don’t wanna eat brown meat, I figured I’d make breakfast.”

“Hey, I can make some mean pancakes.” Stan corrected. “Sure they got a bit of hair in them, but…”

Ford and Jackie laughed and the young scientist reached for a biscuits and was pleased to find it didn’t burn his fingertips. He bit straight into it to give it a try and it was like his brain had exploded. He had never thought he would ever know what it was like to eat a cloud, but here he was. He hummed and took another huge bite, too happy for words.

Jackie’s cheeks suddenly felt a little warmer and she smiled as she spooned herself some eggs.

While Ford happily fixed himself some biscuits n’ gravy, Stan bit into a biscuit as he read his paper and he froze like a statue. Angles were suddenly dancing on his tongue. He moved his eyes to Jackie and muttered, “I’d have to marry you if you always cook this good.”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “Oh, c’mon, your mother never cooked?”

“She always cooked,” Stan explained. “N’ she was good at it, too, but you’re… you’re really, really good!” And he engulfed the rest of the biscuit in his mouth.

“What Stanley is trying to say,” Ford said firmly and smiled at the dark-skinned woman. “Is that we’re extremely grateful you’re here.”

Jackie returned the smile. “Thanks. I’m grateful to be here. What made you decide y’all needed help?”

“Well,” Ford sipped his coffee again and began to explain in detail why exactly the twins decided to hire extra help on their farm. “You see we can handle it for the most part by ourselves, with Stanley handling the sheep and chickens and with me supervising the crops and sales, but recently something has caught my attention and… erm, kept me away from the farm, and it’s too much for one man to do on his own.”

“What’s been keeping you out of the farm?” Jackie asked, not at all judgmental as to why this man wasn’t helping his brother, but curious as to what caught his attention.

“Recently some strange things have been occurring.” Ford added. “I don’t know if it’s because I went away to college and saw what was considered normal and not normal or what, but there have always been weird happenings in this town. The deeper you go into the woods, the more natural anomalies there seem to be.”

“Which means stay outta the woods.” Stan said firmly.

“Which means, since we live on the outskirts of Gravity Falls, we’re safe.” Ford corrected. “But I plan to further investigate what’s going on, and I wish to spend all of my time doing so to quickly get to the bottom of it. I also need some help, and Stanley is too busy and it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to be at my beck and call, so I’ve asked my old college buddy to come down to help me investigate the strange findings in this town.”

“I get it, okay,” Jackie said with a nod, it all making sense now. “But what kind of weird stuff have you been noticing?”

Ford grinned excitedly. “You’ll see in time.”

Jackie blew a raspberry at this guy deciding to be “cool” and mysterious, making him laugh and resume his breakfast. “So, what kind of stuff we’ll you have me do?” Jackie asked Stan.

“Well,” Stan closed his newspaper. “Since it’s your first day I’ll walk you through everything. Some stuff you’ll do every day, some stuff only on certain days. The chickens need to be fed, the sheep need to be let out, the cow’s gotta be milked, n’ the crops gotta stay healthy n’ weed-free.” And he left the table to get dressed in a red button-up and jeans.

Stan made Ford do the dishes, claiming they were behind on work and it would take longer to get everything done since Jackie was learning. Right by the kitchen door, next to two big pairs of rain boots, was a huge bag of chicken feed. “We gotta keep it here or the hens get into it.” Stan explained and opened the bag, showing a big measuring cup inside. “One cup’s enough, just spread it out n’ don’t pour it all at once. If they’re still hungry there’s plenty of bugs.”

Jackie nodded, taking mental notes, and watched as Stan scooped out some food and opened the back door. Jackie had seen the farm yesterday, but to see the sun rising on the barns and crops made the whole thing sparkle gorgeously. She grinned at the little chicken coop by the house and watched Stan sprinkle out the feed as he whistled. A dozen or so hens scurried out of the coop with one big rooster standing as king on top of the small structure, and he fluttered his wings and floated down for food.

“That’s our rooster, Clock.” Stan explained as he put the cup back inside the bag, grabbed a woven basket, and closed the kitchen door behind them so no chickens would run into the house. “Here, get in the coop n’ collect eggs. We don’t need a whole lot, so don’t freak out if the hens aren’t makin’ that much.

“Any chance they’ll have chicks inside?” Jackie asked, eyeing the loud and proud rooster.

“Nope. Clock’s an old boy.” Stan explained. “That’s why he sounds so bad. We haven’t had a chick from him in years. Hey, he always does his job, though.”

Jackie chuckled and ducked into the chicken coop. Some nests had no eggs but some had one or two. Jackie carefully collected them and knew they would be great for baking and breakfast. When she emerged, Stan tossed a metal bucket to her. “Sheep need water. There’s a well out that way, just make sure they won’t get thirsty after you put the eggs in the kitchen. I’ve already got ‘em out in the field. If you need me I’ll be in that barn over there.” And he pointed to the smaller one of the two.

Jackie nodded and headed in the direction he pointed toward when talking about the well. As she walked, she took in her surroundings and was free to acknowledge how big his farm was. There was a lot of land, with the woods acting as the border. On one side of the land it was full of crops like a big cornfield, rows of carrots, tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, watermelons, and pumpkins, and closer to the house strawberries, blackberries, blueberries, and raspberries blossomed. Jackie also noticed a little herb garden growing in a basket on the back porch, not too far from the kitchen door. 

On the opposite end of the crops was the two barns and a huge patch of clear land for the sheep. Jackie awed at the thirty-something sheep that “bah”ed quietly and gnawed on grass, their coats a bit short, telling Jackie that they had been trimmed not too long ago. Somewhat between the crops and the fields for animals was an old well that might have once been the primary source of water here, but thanks to modern plumbing now it was only used for the livestock. Jackie saw another bucket tied by a rope with the pulley system and she was clever enough to figure it all out on her own.

Mustering up her strength and hardly breaking a sweat, Jackie filled her own bucket with water and carried it to where the sheep dwelt. By the fence that kept them away from the crops, there was a trough, so Jackie poured the water in it and the sheep came flocking, craving water. She chuckled and noticed the trough wasn’t full, so she walked back to the well, refilled her bucket, and poured it out again, this time sploshing some sheep a little, but they didn’t mind. In fact, they started licking each other’s faces for more water, making Jackie laugh and she petted a nearby sheep and admired the soft wool.

As she petted the sheep, she caught something out the corner of her eye and looked over at the smaller of the two barns. Stan was emerging with a beautiful gray and black horse and then gently slapped his behind so the horse would know he’s free to wander. The horse galloped for a bit and then slowed, lapping up some water at his own trough. Jackie wondered if she needed to fill that one, too, but Stan made his way to the well with his own bucket and watered the horse. Jackie smiled and walked to Stan, ready for her next chore.

“That there Truffles.” Stan explained, pointing to the horse as the woman approached. “Stubborn. It’d be best if you let me handle him. He doesn’t like people much, even gives Ford a hard time.”

Jackie nodded. “Gotcha.”

“Watered the sheep? Good. Ever milked a cow? Well today you’re gonna learn.” Stan said and motioned for her to follow him into the smaller of the two barns. Inside were two stalls and equipment for a horse and a cow. Jackie could even see a horse-drawn sled collecting cobwebs in the back corner. “Luna’s okay, as long as you’re quiet. Doesn’t like noise much. She’s got a soft spot for Ford.”

Stan opened one of the stalls and Jackie got a full view of a white cow with only one big black spot over her right eye. She mooed at the visitors and licked Stan’s outstretched hand. Jackie couldn’t help but notice how gentle he petted her neck and talked to her. Despite having a voice made of gravel, his talk was as soft as silk. “Hey mama, good to see you, good to see you. Try to be nice for me, girl, okay. Alright, c’mere, Jackie.”

Stan pulled a short stool over and motioned for her to sit. He knelt beside the cow and placed the bucket below the utters. “It’s really simple, just squeeze n’ pull n’ squeeze n’ pull.”

“Okay,” The woman sat on the stool, held the bucket between her boots, and carefully grabbed an utter. It was soft and squishy and she could feel the milk, and she did as she was told and smiled to see delicious warm milk fall into the bucket.

“Not bad, not bad at all.” Stan commented with a smile. “Here, you can squeeze harder, you won’t hurt her. Like this.” He gently covered Jackie’s hand with her own and showed her just how tightly to squeeze and pull. Jackie followed, her eyes darting up to Luna, but the cow only happily chewed on some hay. She didn’t even twitch her tail with uncomfortably. Jackie smiled at Stan, thanking him for his help, and he returned the smile and let her go to milk. She milked just as well as Ford or Stan could, and when Stan checked to make sure Luna was empty, there was no milk left to obtain.

“Good job.” Stan praised and stood up. “Take the milk in the house n’ Ford can pan it. He’s got a knack for dairy n’ makin’ butter. He can teach you if you want.”

“Sounds great.” Jackie hoisted the bucket up and let it hang in front of her. “What after that?”

“Well, nothing’s ready to harvest yet.” Stan answered. “We’ll check for weeds n’ make sure the gardens are healthy, then I think we’ll be okay until the afternoon. Usually around noon is when we go into town, do laundry, chop wood, or whatever else needs to get done aside from mornin’ n’ afternoon chores.”

“Well what are the afternoon chores?” Jackie asked.

“Basically reverse of what we just did. I’ll put up Truffles n’ I’ll show you how to drive in the sheep. Then you’ll water ‘em n’ milk Luna again, or you can make Ford do it so you can cook.”

Jackie snorted. “I think I’ll do that.”

“Good. Then we’ll have your afternoon chores only be to drive in the sheep.”

“Anything needs to get done today?” Jackie asked.

“I can’t think of anything.” Stan said with a shrug. “Ma used to have a little jingle… Scrub on Monday, Laundry on Tuesday, Knit on Wednesday, Prep on Thursday, Bake on Friday, Rest on Saturday, Clean on Sunday. O’course, you can do whatever you want, s’long as work’s gettin’ done. I’m sure I can find you something to do.” He hinted at and winked.

Jackie rolled her eyes. “I like it. Your mom was really smart… What’s today? Wednesday? Well, I don’t feel like knitting or sewing, so I guess I’ll try to clean the house for when Ford’s friend gets here. Hey, what did your mom mean by scrub on Monday?”

Stan shrugged. “Usually that meant the kitchen n’ bathrooms. You know, the tubs, sinks, toilets, the oven, the stoves…”

“Ah, gotcha.” Jackie wandered out of the barn with Stan and said, “Well, after I check the crops I’ll scrub.”

“Have fun.” Stan teased and headed for the corn to check for crows and other pests.

* * *

“Great, so we’ll see you on Tuesday?” Ford clarified. “Thank you so much, buddy. I owe you. No, of course we don’t mind. We’ve got plenty of room. You’re welcome, goodbye.”

Ford hung up the phone and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had been foolish to think Fiddleford could simply drop everything and move across the country just to assist him. Foolish and selfish. What stung most was how worried Fiddleford had sounded over the phone when he began making his request.

There was no good in stalling and not telling Stan, he had to tell him that the plan had changed. Ford stood and exited the parlor to try to find his brother, probably out in the fields by now. He knew if he did he would get tangled into trying to help, which was fine for today, so Ford mentally prepared himself for hoeing and pulling weeds as he entered the kitchen and found Jackie entering the room with a bucket of milk. “Oh, thank you, ma’am.” He said politely. “I’ll pan it later, we’re low on butter. Right now I need to have a word with Stanley.”

“He’s out at the cornfield.” Jackie assisted.

“Thank you.”

Ford found Stan right where Jackie said he would. The younger twin emerged from the field, satisfied with the state of the corn, and raised an eyebrow when the older twin said, “Stanley, we have to talk.”

“What’s the word, Sixer?” Stan asked as they started to walk alongside the edge of the field.

“Fiddleford will be here on Tuesday…”

“Great!”

“… and he’s bringing his son.”

They kept walking as Stan gave Ford a surprised and confused look.

“Tate. His four-year-old.”

“I know who the boy is, Poindexter!” Stan snapped, irritated that that was what Ford thought he was confused about. “That’s fine, we’ve got room for him, but why in Moses’ name is he brinin’ Tate? I thought your friend was only visitin’ for a few weeks.”

Ford sighed and ran a six-fingered hand through his fluffy hard-to-maintain hair. “Fiddleford is getting a divorce.”

Stan winced. He may not have known the nerd as well as Ford did, but from what he gathered he had been over the moon for his gal.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with Tater, either.” Ford added. “Says he’s too much like Fiddleford. He thinks this is a good way to start a new life, you know? Move here and help me, then maybe find their own place.”

“Or we can build a smaller second house.” Stan threw in. “More houses means more hands to work the farm, which means more money n’ more land.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Perhaps. For now I was thinking Fiddleford could have the guest bedroom and Tate could have the Jack and Jill bedroom.”

“Sure, I bet Jackie won’t mind.” Stan predicted.

“And you’re okay with Tate coming to live with us, too?” Ford double-checked.

“You kiddin’ me, I love kids!” Stan punched Ford’s shoulder and stood still with his arms cross over his chest. “It’ll be great, you wait n’ see! There’s plenty of stuff here to Tate to do until he’s old enough for school n’ nobody’s gonna get claustrophobic here. Not that Santa Claus is real.”

Ford groaned and pinched at his eyes under his glasses. “That was bad, even for you.” But the young investigator smiled at his twin and returned the punch on the shoulder. “Well, thank you. I know it’s a lot to take in in such a small amount of time…”

“You know something, Sixer?” Stan interrupted and gave him a slightly-more serious look. “It’s been too quiet here lately.”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what your definition of quiet is, but…”

“You know what I meant.” Stan said firmly and resumed what he was trying to say. “I ain’t got a problem with it just bein’ the two of us - you know I don’t - but it’s been way too quiet here. I miss it bein’ crowded n’ busy n’ loud. So I say the more the merrier; n’ the sooner I can’t hear my own thoughts (though few there may be), the better.”

Ford smiled softly at his brother. It was true. The quiet had been appreciated at first, but now it wasn’t as appreciated as the noise that comes with good company. Ever since Ma and Pa had died and Shermie had gone back to California, it had just been the twins on this big farm. What Stan said was true, it was fine, and with Ford gone for four years while he earned as many PhDs as he had fingers, it was nice to reconcile and catch up. But now it was high-time the Pines family grew bigger and louder and weirder, the way it was supposed to be.

“Well, guess we should tell Jackie she’ll be sharing her bathroom, then.” Ford suggested and led the way away from the cornfield with his twin by his side.


	3. Hard Work, Hard Rains, Soft Hands

“Good girl, Spots, good girl.” Stan coached and then turned his head away from the sheep. “Jackie! That water n’ towel sometime today would be great!”

“Shaddup, I’m coming!” Jackie called back, a dark towel over her shoulder as she drew a tub of water. She hurried as fast as she could without spilling much water and hurried into the bigger of the two barns. While the smaller one was for Luna and Truffles, the bigger one was for the sheep. All but one was outside, enjoying the nice weather, while a white sheep with black spots like a cow was taking deep breaths as she laid in the soft hay.

“Atta girl, atta girl,” Stan soothed as Jackie joined his side and put down the metal tub and gave him the towel. “Thanks, now watch this.”

Part of her wanted to look away and the other part of her was mesmerized, so the boss’ order helped Jackie to make up her mind. She rested her hands on her knees and watched as Spots pushed very slowly. Just under her tail what looked like uncooked chicken was seeping out. Stan pressed his mouth tight, a sign he was concerned, and Jackie watched as the farmer gently patted a little head, just by the neck. “C’mon, c’mon…”

Jackie’s eyes adjusted to what she was seeing as the little lamb jerked, not even fully born yet, but already making wee cries. Jackie wondered if something was still wrong, but Stan relaxed and smiled as the lamb jerked around some more, and the new farm-woman was sure everything was alright. 

“Well, look at that.” Jackie awed as the lamb slipped out and Spots immediately got up, turned, and began to lick her baby clean.

“Good girl, Spots, good girl.” Stan praised as he petted her neck, her back tender and sore, and therefore it wouldn’t be appreciated to be petted there right now. “Right, we’ll let her clean her lamb as much as she wants to n’ then we’ll just look it over to make sure everything’s as it should be. Most of the time s’long as they’re movin’ they’re fine.”

Jackie nodded, enjoying the scene. Yes it was gross and Jackie could probably use a glass of water right now, but she had never seen anything give birth before, so it was kind of nice to check that off her bucket list. After another minute or so, the new lamb was beginning to stand. That made Stan grin. “That’s it, fellow. That’s it, take your time, now.”

The lamb, now nearly clean, was white all over and already had an impressive coat. Stan chuckled and scooped the lamb up in his strong arms, his long sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hair tied back. “Sweet Lord, this one’s got quite a coat.”

“Does it?” Jackie asked.

“Oh yeah,” Stan said as he began to gently wash the lamb. “See, most sheep when first born got thinner coats, cuz they don’t need thicker coats inside their moms, but this one’s just a right ole little cloud.” Was his voice becoming more strained? Was he getting choked up?! 

Jackie looked at his brown eyes and thought they looked more wet than normal. “Stanley Pines, are you crying?”

“That’s not important right now!” Stan snapped as loud as he dared, his voice still somehow managing to be soft and quiet for the baby. When back in Stan’s arms as he rubbed it dry, the lamb “bah”ed happily with big shiny eyes. The farmer happily gazed at the newest member of the flock until Spots “bah”ed at Stan, making him laugh and set the lamb down. “Alright, alright. Here’s your Dot, Spots.”

Dot nuzzled her mother and began to drink her milk. Spots licked her back as she nursed and Stan stood up to leave them be. “They’ll rejoin the herd later. Just keep an eye on Dot to make sure she’s okay.”

“Gotcha.” Jackie followed Stan with the tub since he had the towel.

“Grayback had her lambs last week,” Stan pointed out and he and Jackie watched a gray sheep with a white head and legs snap at a gray lamb and a white lamb, bigger than Dot and much more troublesome. “N’ Clover should have her’s any day now, then that’s all for the season.”

Jackie caught the eye of a big white sheep gnawing on some grass and smiled at Clover as she followed Stan towards the house. “Do they need us to be there?”

Stan shrugged. “Nah, they can do it alright by themselves, but better be safe than sorry n’ be there in case something goes haywire, you know? Just keep an eye on ‘em n’ if things don’t look good call for me.”

Jackie mockingly saluted her boss. “Yes, sir.”

* * *

It was Sunday and it rained all day, so while Jackie should be more productive since she rested yesterday, she didn’t really have the energy to do it. Which was fine, nobody else seemed all too keen on doing more than they have to. Stan was watching TV by the wood-burning stove as he used a piece of glass to cut at a long piece of wood and Ford used the extra time to teach Jackie how to make butter. 

It really was simple. Jackie had no idea why, but she expected it to be more complicated, but Ford simply took a carton of Luna’s milk and poured it into an electric mixture, let it mix on low for a minute, and then on high for three, then he showed her a special mold the family had, a perfect rectangle shape, but along the edges there would be a forest field with pinetrees. When the cream was separated into butter and buttermilk, Ford put the butter on a plate and poured the buttermilk into a jug to use later for cooking or whatever. Then with clean hands, Ford pressed the clumps of butter together to drain it of liquid, made sure it was clean and smooth, and then packed it into the mold. Then, like magic, Ford flipped the mold over and a perfect stick of homemade butter appeared on the dish, earning him a jaw-drop from Jackie.

“There’s enough milk for another stick.” Ford said and gestured to the mixer. “Would you care to do the honors?”

“Sure! Thanks!” Jackie said excitedly and got to work on making the second stick of butter.

Ford smiled, excused himself from the room, and went off to watch TV with his twin and try to finish knitting that extra blanket for Tate’s bed before the McGuckets arrived in two days.

Jackie counted to sixty after setting the mixer on low and then set it on high and set the little timer to three minutes. To entertain herself, she turned away from the counter and looked out the big window that decorated the wall. Displayed was a beautiful view of the woods and the driveway that housed the red Diablo. All the animals were tucked away safely for the rainy day and it gave the farm an odd appearance. The rain was heavy, but there was no thunder or lightning. Even a little bit of fog played with the grass.

Jackie crossed her arms over her chest and smiled at the scene, until something unusual caught her eye and it made her smile drop. Now, she couldn’t be sure, but swore she saw a little ball of white fluff moving farther and farther away, closer and closer to the woods.

At once Jackie shut off the mixer, snatched one of the boys’ rain jackets from the hooks, slipped it on, and bolted outside. She ran to the driveway, past the small berry garden, and squinted with a hand shielding her eyes from the falling water. Sure enough, a little lamb was skipping and playing in the rain, and soon disappeared in the woods.

“DOT!” Jackie cried out and ran towards where the baby sheep had last been seen. “You come back here! Dot!”

The young woman was too small in the blue rain jacket, the hood often covering her eyes and the sleeves rolling past her fists as she ran, but it would have to do. Jackie’s feet were already chilly, but thank goodness the work boots were doing their job for awhile at least. Jackie paused to look around and try to catch a sighting of Dot, but no white could be seen in the sea of blues and greens and browns.

“Dot!” Jackie called out and walked carefully so she wouldn’t pass the lost sheep. “Dot, here girl!”

The farmhand held herself tightly in the overgrown jacket and blinked the rain drops off her eyelashes. She had never been in the woods before, except for when Stan took her on a Truffles-drawn cart ride through the woods and into town and up to Boyish Dan’s house for lumber in exchange for some wool. But this was different. Last time she was on the main path and safe with Stan on the reigns by her side. Now she was by herself and in the middle of nowhere and she could understand why Stan ordered her to never come here.

It wasn’t scary, rather it had a bigger-than-life feeling to Jackie. As she passed towering oak trees and old pines that housed many sleepy owls and fuzzy squirrels, she had a borderline creepy feeling in her spine, like there was so much more to these woods, like they were hiding something. But that was ridiculous! Woods can’t hide anything, like how a child would hide candy wrappers from their parents. No, it’s just the rain creating a dreary feeling in the forest.

“Dot!” Jackie called again, her face becoming damp and her thighs were cold. “Dot, please! Let’s go home!”

She paused and looked around. She allowed herself a minute to think as she cupped her hands by her mouth and blew into them to warm her cheeks and fingers. It wasn’t terribly cold, but the spring rain did make it a bit chilly and uncomfortable. But then, thank goodness, Jackie heard some bahs coming from her right. She hurried, pushing through branches and bushes, and there she found Dot. The lamb’s back-right leg was caught in a branch by the thick wool and she fought and tugged and pulled but could not get free.

Jackie smiled and went to her lamb. “Dot! That’s what you get for running off. How’d you even escape the barn and the fence, huh girl?”

Of course Dot didn’t answer. Jackie scooped her up one armed and untangled the bush from the wool. Now Jackie could snugly hold the lamb. Poor Dot was wet and shivering; she may have a slightly thicker coat than other sheep her age, but it still wasn’t quite as thick as it should be to protect her from the bitter cold. Jackie retracted her arms inside her jacket and then unzipped it quickly to let the lamb in. Now Jackie had a closed oversized jacket hanging by the hood on her head and a lamb in her arms. And she was lost.

Jackie looked around the woods for any sign of the farm, but she had strayed too far into it and saw no sign of a clear field. Well, she wasn’t going to find anything by standing still. If she could find that dirt road, then at least she would either hit town or the farm. Jackie carefully stepped over tree-roots and wildflowers and lightly scolded Dot to give her something to occupy her thoughts.

“Dot, just wait until I tell Mama Stan about this. He’s gonna scold you good.” Jackie snorted as she remembered when Truffles snapped at Jackie and Stan scolded at his horse, much like how a parent would scold a child. Really, there was no point in hiding the fact that all the animals were his babies. Let’s just say that when the time comes Stan will make a wonderful father and leave it at that.

Dot licked some droplets off Jackie’s chin and snuggled up against her chest. Jackie was damp, but not as bad as she would be without the blue rain jacket. Really, she couldn’t stay mad at Dot. Moses knows she was nothing but trouble as a kid, but every mistake she had ever made helped mold her into a better person, helped her become the person she is now. And she would like to think she was alright.

Jackie stepped on a twig that snapped and she kicked it aside as she ventured onward. She might not even be heading towards a road. She wished she could see the sun. At least then she would know East from West and could make a better guess on which direction to go. And… oh, crap! She left the butter unfinished! Damn it. Jackie groaned to herself and walked on, but then her left foot plunged into a dip in the earth and was now ankle-deep in mud. Jackie swore loudly and pulled her soaked foot out and walked on. Dot shook in her grasp and licked her hand to try to calm her down.

Jackie rubbed the lamb’s back. “I’m sorry Dot, but I’m having a rough day right now.”

Then something else made her stop in her tracks. Was it… whispering? Or wind through the trees? No, the air was still. Jackie looked around and lifted her hood up lightly to see better. “Hello?” She called out.

The sound was gone. Someone was definitely out there. “Hello, can you help me out?” Jackie called and looked around for a shadow or a light. “I think I went in the wrong direction.”

She was silent and listened carefully through the symphony of rain. “Yes… yes, she will do fine.”

Jackie’s heart skipped a beat. She had seen enough horror movies to know what happens to young women alone in the woods. Jackie turned right around and ran for her life. Dot cried out in shock and uncomfortably, bouncing around, but Jackie ignored her and only held the lamb tighter.

Puddles splashed and wetted her legs up to her knees. The hood fell off her head and now the over-sized jacket was barely hanging by her shoulders. Jackie freed some fingers from Dot to grab the jacket so she wouldn’t lose it and have to explain to the boys that one of their jackets went missing in the woods. Lightning flashed and a few seconds later thunder rolled. The heavy rain was turning into a storm. Dot cried out again and buried her head in Jackie’s chest. Jackie gasped for breath but did not stop running.

Now she couldn’t be sure. She was moving too fast to get a good look at it, but Jackie could have sworn on her life that she saw some sort of triangle on top of something circular, like an upside-down ice cream cone. Or a gnome.

* * *

The Pines twins had been laughing too loudly over a joke on the TV to hear the door slam when Jackie left. A few minutes went by and Jackie hadn’t joined them in the living room, which was fine, she probably was starting on dinner or wanted to be alone. Her disappearance hadn’t even been noticed until Ford went into the kitchen for some orange juice and he frowned at the electric mixer. The butter was only half done and now a whipped, melting mess. Ford restarted the mixer and after a minute deemed the cream salvageable. If Jackie didn’t want to make the second stick of butter she should have said so.

Ford finished the chore and left the dishes to soak in soapy water in the sink. He went into the living room as Stan laughed at the TV. “Haha! That guy got hit in the head with a coconut!”

“Stanley, have you seen Jackie?” Ford asked.

“Huh? Uh, no. Why?”

The front door flew open as wind howled and lightning stuck and thunder roared. Jackie hurried inside with the jacket hanging by her shoulders, her hair soaked and sticking to her skin, and her lungs nearly empty of oxygen. She leaned against the door and tried to catch her breath while the men stood at the doorway of the living room and stared.

“Sweet Lord!” Stan gasped and helped Jackie out of his rain jacket. “What were you doin’ out there?!”

“Dot… got… out.” Jackie panted, swallowed and handed the sleepy lamb to Stan, who was completely dumbfounded. “I caught sight of her escaping just in time. Poor thing ended up stuck on a bush.”

Stan was at a loss for words for a minute, but then cradled Dot in one strong beefy arm and wrapped around around Jackie’s shoulders. “Here, let’s get you warm n’ dry. Sixer, go get a towel or two, will ya?”

Ford nodded, hurried for the bathroom, and Stan walked Jackie into the living room. He pulled a short stool out in front of the wood-burning stove and gently guided Jackie to it. She could walk on her own, she was only cold, but she was grateful for the help and decided not to fuss. She watched as Stan slipped off his red button-up and wrapped it around Dot like it was a blanket. Jackie smiled at seeing Stan rubbed the lamb dry and how his eyes sparkled and shined. Dot licked his strong chin and he chuckled and scratched Dot under her chin.

“I wonder how she got out.” Jackie said quietly.

“Must be a whole somewhere in the barn.” Stan guessed. “We’ll take a look tomorrow.” He looked up at Jackie and smiled kindly at her. “N’ hey, thanks for brinin’ her home.”

Jackie’s face suddenly felt hot, and she wasn’t sure it was from the fire. She smiled and nodded. “You’re welcome.”

Ford then returned and handed the towels to Jackie. She thanked him and wrapped one around her hair and draped the other one over her shoulders. She watched as Stan threw some wood in the fire one-handed, the other holding Dot and then he sat next to her on the floor and let the lamb rest in his lap. Dot yawned and buried her face in his arm, his other hand petting her back. Jackie, without registering her actions, put a hand on Stan’s shoulder.

Ford smiled at the scene before him and decided to go read a book elsewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched five lambs being born for this fic... I need help.


	4. The McGuckets and the Gnomes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout-out to Mystery Trio Animated’s old video for inspiring me on how to get the ball rolling. (I’m trying a healthy combination of Mystery Trio shit and canon shit.) Thank you so so much for reading and I hope you enjoy it!!!

“Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”

“Yes, son,” Fiddleford sighed with a smile. “As I’ve told you for the last fifteen minutes, we’re finally here.”

“Yay!” Tate cheered and grinned as the beautiful woods fell out of sight and the four-year-old’s hidden eyes widened at all the open space to play in. He grinned at the sheep and horse and cow and he saw that sign shaped like a pinetree that read “Pines’ Farm” and thought that was funny. The road was made of dirt and rocks and made weird noises under Daddy’s blue truck.

The road led up to a big house with a triangle roof and a porch. On the porch, two men Tate had never seen before sat in chairs and stood, waiting. Suddenly Tate was nervous and shrunk back into his car seat.

Fiddleford noticed this and smiled at his son. Tate was a kind and intelligent boy, but was often quiet, except when he was alone with Fiddleford. It was like he saved all of his words for him. Fiddleford parked and got out, deciding to let Tate move at his own space.

“Fiddleford, glad to see you’ve made it safely!”

“Howdy there, Stanford, good t’see ya!” What started as a handshake turned into a manly hug with smiles and pats on the back. When it was over, Stanford patted his old roommate’s shoulder and said, “Fiddleford, this is my twin brother, Stanley. Stanley, well, you already know who this is.”

It didn’t take a genius to know who Stanley was either, not just considering the fact he did in fact look like Ford’s twin without being identical, but Fiddleford had heard enough stories and seen enough pictures to recognize this guy from a mile away. “Pleased t’finally meet ya, Stanley.” And he held out a hand to shake.

Stan laughed, took it, and shook him possibly slightly too rough. “Ha! Just Stan’ll do, Fiddleford… Jeez, that’s a mouth full. Mind McGucket or Fiddler or Fidds.”

Fiddleford winced. “Anythang but Fiddler since I ain’t one.”

Stan snapped his fingers and said sarcastically. “Darn. N’ here I was thinkin’ we could put a band together, with Ford’s piano skills n’ my beautiful voice.”

Ford snorted while Fiddleford smiled unsurely. “Well, I do play the banjo…”

“Great! We’ll call ourselves the Three Cowboys! I’ll get to writin’ our first song later.” Stan peered over Fiddleford’s shoulder and at the truck. “But first, did you even brin’ the squirt with you?”

Fiddleford looked back at the trunk and could barely see the top of his son’s head in the front passenger’s seat. “Nah, he’s there. He’s just shy.”

“Ah, well he’ll join us when he’s ready.” Ford said and moved to the trunk. “Here, let me help you with your things and show you to your room, buddy.”

“Well, thank ya kindly, Stanford, I reckon you can get this one. Oh, here, I’ll take that one, it mighty heavy.”

Ford and Fiddleford were chatting away like a pair of school girls as they went into the house, arms full of luggage. The McGuckets sure did bring a lot of crap. Stan shook his head with a smile and moved to the trunk, but on the way he swore he saw a little boy with bangs over his eyes looking at him, but then ducking under the car’s window again. Stan smiled and softly knocked on the glass. “Y’ello?”

The boy didn’t appear, but he did crank the window down. “Hi.”

“I’m Stan.”

“Tate.”

“Nice to meet you.” Stan said. “You know, your daddy n’ my brother are close friends.”

“I know.” The boy said quietly. “Daddy says we’re gonna live here a bit.”

“Yup.” Stan said happily, and then asked, “You reckon you’re okay with that?”

“Uh, huh.”

Stan had no idea what it was like to be shy as a kid. Ford might have, which is why he was inclined to let the boy get out of the truck whenever he pleased, but Stan wondered if maybe all it took was someone to show that they were happy he was here and would be even happier to see him happy. He went to the trunk, grabbed a big suitcase with Tate’s name on the tag, and then went back to the window. “C’mon, kid. I got a surprise for you in your new room.”

That got the boy to perk up. He poked his little head up, just enough to look at Stan’s soft smile and outstretched hand, and Tate grinned. “Okay.” He hopped out and closed the door behind him and took Stan’s hand.

Stan squeezed his little hand reassuringly and led the boy into the house. They crossed the living room together to get to the back hallway and Stan led him to the other bedroom, the one connected to Jackie’s Jack and Jill bathroom. Tate gasped with joy to find a bunk bed by the door with a new knitted blanket at the foot. He climbed up the ladder and jumped into the fluffy feather-stuffed mattress and laughed. “Wowie, Zowie! I get a bunk bed?!”

Stan barked a laugh and sat his suitcase on the bottom bunk. As a kid he had no idea that a lot of other kids in the world thought this was the coolest thing to have in a bedroom, it was just convenient for the Pines twins, but now they were grown and perfectly happy with two full beds in their attic bedroom so Tate could have a twin-sized bed in his new room. “You sure do. Don’t tell Ford I told you this, but he knitted you that blanket and if you’ll look in that chest there’s some more surprises for you.”

Tate scurried down to the floor and t the toy chest under the window. He gasped as he found it half-full with brand new toys. There was a jump-rope, some chalk, a wooden train, complete with engine, cars, and a caboose, and a football and a baseball with a bat. Tate’s voice was caught in his throat, leaving his mouth to open and close like a fish. He knew he should say thank you, but he was left speechless due to all of the nice new things.

“So, whatcha think, squirt?” Stan asked, and when Tate looked at him the farmer knew what the boy was trying to say.

* * *

In Ford’s favorite workspace, the thinking parlor, there was a desk that used to be filled to the brim with Pa’s work-papers, but with the deed tightly secure in the family’s safe and after a furlough cleansing, there was now only one drawer dedicated to important old documents and the rest of the ancient desk was free to use for Ford’s investigations and ideas. Ford and Fiddleford stood there now, the Southern engineer watching his best friend pull things out from here and there, as if preparing for a school presentation. Fiddleford smiled as he saw how little his friend had changed.

Ford had suggested to leave Fiddleford to unpack once he showed him his room, assuming he wanted to rest after the trip, but Fiddleford had insisted that Ford show him the plans and Ford understood on a personal level; he was sure Fiddleford wanted to forget his problems for a moment and be distracted with an issue he can actually solve. So Ford laid out a map of Gravity Falls with little red xs sprinkled here and there and he pulled out a red marker and uncapped it.

“Right,” Ford started as he smiled at his old roommate. “As I said over the phone, Gravity Falls is a friendly enough town, but it has got to be one of the strangest towns there are. I hadn’t realized how strange it was until leaving for Backupsmore and I realized that some things weren’t normal. Not to mention, if you look at the map, a lot of anomalies I’ve noticed occur away from our farm, so as children it’s not like we were fully exposed to them.”

Fiddleford did in fact notice that there were no red xs on the Pines’ farm, or close to the barrier. There were one or two in the actual town itself, but most of the xs were in the woods and in the mountains. Probably whatever creatures were out there purposely stayed in the woods, like any other wildlife, to avoid mankind. Fiddleford nodded and said, “Alright, but what sort of anomalies have ya noticed?”

Ford pulled out a journal with a golden six-fingered hand on it and opened it to showcase some very well drawn sketches. Fiddleford stared to find unicorns, eye bats, two-headed snakes, dark vague shadows, and possibly a werewolf? Fiddleford blinked and muttered, “Uh… ya… ya sure it’s…”

“I swear on my life,” Ford said seriously. “I’ve seen some strange things out there, Fiddleford. I haven’t had a chance to get a proper look at any of it, but I’m hoping with your help I may finally be able to catch something, or at least some solid evidence, that proves I’m not crazy.”

Fiddleford detected a hint of bitterness by the end of it. He wouldn’t be surprised if anyone else Ford had explained this to had written him off as a whack-job. Fiddleford smiled and patted his shoulder. “Hey, I believe ya. Reckon somebody’s gotta catalog these critters. Why not it be us, right? So, suppose tomorrow mornin’ we just get on out there n’ explore the woods for some weird critters?”

Ford smiled back with determination and excitement gleaming in his eyes. “That’s the idea.”

* * *

Tate was watching TV in the living room while Jackie was in the kitchen with Stan by her side. Yes, Jackie did all the cooking and was good at it, but Stan knew how to make some stuff edible and it seemed like a fair trade; if Stan was going to teach Jackie how to run a farm, she might as well teach him a thing or two about cooking.

“So, what can you cook, Stanley?” Jackie asked while she seasoned some flour that was already in a big paper bag.

“Besides Stancakes?” He clarified. “Uh, I can do grits. That’s about it, missy.”

Jackie giggled good-naturedly and said, “Well, first thang you gotta know ‘bout cooking is this fellow right here.” And she held up a big container of Crisco. “The best thang they did since put mayonnaise in a jar.” Jackie spooned some of the thick white stuff out and put it on the hot skillet to melt like butter. “Gum in your hair? Squeaky door hinge? Crisco.”

When Jackie’s back was turned to work on the chicken, Stan stuck his finger in some of the Crisco; it looked pretty, almost like frosting for a cake. To hide what he did, Stan stuck his finger in his mouth; the taste wasn’t great.

“Bags under your eyes? Wanna soften some scaly feet? Crisco.” Jackie added as she dipped a breast in the egg wash then put it in the bag, then did the process again with another piece of chicken. “But it’s best for frying chicken. Mm! I love fried chicken! Gotta be my favorite! It takes a lot of work to make, but it tastes so good and it’s always worth it! Well, worth it to me, anyways.” Jackie rolled up the bag tight and held it out to Stan. “Shake that.”

“Oh, sure.” Stan took the bag filled with chicken and flour. He shook it and found that once he got a rhythm for it it was actually kind of fun. With a stupid grin on his face he rattled the bag really heavy, making Jackie laugh.

“Alright alright, Stan, the chicken’s already dead.” Jackie took the bag and opened it to see how well seasoned it was. “Yup, she dead. And well dressed for the funeral, too.”

Stan laughed and the timer dinged. “Oh, will you take out the cornbread, please?” Jackie asked as she stirred the green beans, the Crisco not quite fully melted yet, but almost.

“You got it.” Stan slipped on some oven mitts and opened the oven. There sat a beautiful skillet full of Mexican cornbread. This wasn’t just cornbread, this was cornbread with spices and bits of corn. The smell made Stan’s mouth water like a dog and he happily put it on a folded up towel on the table. “Sweet Lord!”

“Give it a minute to cool, Lee, geez!” Jackie said, able to read his mind and know he wanted to pick at it.

Stan stuck his tongue at the back of her head and watched her fry the chicken. The grease bubbled around the chicken and flew everywhere, like firecrackers. Stan took a step back as he got sprayed a little bit, meanwhile all Jackie did was flinch and asked, “Will you call the boys for dinner? It’ll be ready by the time they get in here.”

“Sure.” Everyone was inside the house, so there was no sense in ringing the triangle; Stan poked his head in the living room to tell Tate dinner was ready and then knocked on the parlor door to tell the nerds that food was ready.

By the time Stan came back with Tate by his side, the table was set with pitchers of sweet tea and water on the table, big bowl of green beans, the skillet full of Mexican cornbread, and Jackie had just flipped the chicken. Stan licked his lips and playfully fought with Tate for space in the kitchen sink as they washed up.

Fiddleford followed Ford to the bathroom to wash and then to the kitchen. He stared happily at the set-up before him, and then his eyes widened at the stranger in the room. A dark-skinned woman used tongs to lift fried chicken out of a skillet and onto a tray lined with paper towels. She wore an apron over leans and a white t-shirt, her past-shoulder-length black hair tied in a loose, low ponytail to keep her hair away from her cooking. Fiddleford smiled; he had known the twins had hired help but he had no clue who that was; he had accidentally assumed it was another man.

The woman set the tray of steaming chicken on the table, wiped her forehead dry, and smiled at Fiddleford. “You must be Ford’s friend. I’m Jackie.” She introduced and held out her hand.

Fiddleford gently took it and shook her head with a smile. “Fiddleford H. McGucket, ma’am. It’s a pleasure t’meet ya.”

Jackie’s cheeks turned rosy at his politeness and invited him to sit. Soon they were all happily digging into the delicious dinner and enjoyed every bite.

Fiddleford was extremely impressed. The chicken crunched happily in his mouth and the chicken’s meat was soft and delicious. The green beans were flavored with bacon and onions, and the Mexican cornbread was very good. As Fiddleford munch on his bread while he listened to Stan tell a story, he couldn’t help but think how much better the cornbread would be with some butter. He checked the table for it, and perhaps he was overlooking it, but he didn’t see it.

“Jackie, may I have some butter, please.” Fiddleford asked politely when Stan was taking a break from his story to drink some water.

Jackie smiled and nodded. “Sure.” Let’s forget the fact that Ford was sitting next to Fiddleford and was the closest to the fridge. Jackie didn’t even notice, and she casually got the butter-dish out of the fridge, sat with it, and handed it to the southerner as he dipped his head and whispered “thank you” as to not interrupt Stan.

By the end of the meal, Stan was patting his gut happily and sighing heavily. “Yup. Jackie, I think you get better with every meal.”

While Jackie stood and took her dishes to the sink, her face grew warmer.

“Yes, that was delicious, Jackie, thank you.” Ford praised.

“Well,” Jackie opened the fridge and pulled something out. “I hope everyone left room for dessert.”

“Mm! Pie!” Stan gasped happily and rubbed his hands together; it didn’t matter if it killed him, he’d make room for Round 2.

“Lemon Meringue.” Jackie explained, sitting the pie down on the table as she took up the mostly-empty bowl of green beans and began to put the vegetables in a smaller container for the fridge; leftovers made for an excellent lunch.

Mouth watering and eyes as big as dinner plates, once Jackie sat down the small plates, forks, and pie knife on the table, Stan cut right into the beautiful dessert while Ford began to collect dishes.

Fiddleford, too full for pie at the moment, stood and stretched his arms over his head. “So, should we get back to work, Stanford?”

“Sorry, let me finish these dishes first.” Ford said as he began to clean. “Got to thank Jackie for the meal the best way I can.”

Jackie lightly shoved his shoulder as she brought over the skillet of cornbread and began to move it to a plastic container. “Hey, I don’t wanna eat canned meat or TV dinners any more than you do.”

“You know, Tate,” Stan mumbled with pie in his cheeks like a chipmunk. “If you’ll look in that cabinet there should be a jar with holes if you wanna catch some firefl-…”

“FIREFLIES?!” Tate excitedly interrupted, drained his cup of water, and dashed to where Stan said the jar would be. Lo and behold two jars with holes poked into the lids shined and Tate snatched one up. “Daddy, wanna catch some with me?” The boy pleaded.

“Sure, son,” Fiddleford said with a smile, playing with his boy sounding much better than returning to work that can be done another time, so they hurried out the kitchen door and were amazed to find dozens of blinking bugs out on the farm.

Tate grinned and ran with his father admiring the scene. Stan decided he could enjoy his pie just as much on the doorstep as he could at the table, and he took his dessert with him and sat with the door open to watch the McGuckets play. Jackie and Ford got a nice view of the scene from the sink and happily chatted away as they cleaned the kitchen.

* * *

Stan yawned into his hand and he hummed a little song to himself. “Doo, doo de, doo, doo… gettin’ a midnight snack, gonna eat some…”

Stan turned on the hall-light, his eyes still sensitive to bright lights, so he could see his way into the kitchen without bumping into the table or walking into the fridge. He gasped in horror and then growled like an angry bulldog at the open fridge and spilt content. “Pie!” He finished his song bitterly with one knee before the open fridge. “Oh, c’mon! I was gonna eat that! Actually, this part here still looks good…”

With no one to judge him, Stan scooped up some lemon-filling with two fingers and hummed with satisfaction as the delicious taste grazed his mouth. On his feet again, Stan was about to grab some paper towels to start cleaning up the mess when something ran across his foot.

Stan yelled and jumped about a foot in the air before grabbing a hanging pan from the wall and holding it as he would a weapon. He first thought that the pie fell off the cramped shelf in the fridge, opening the door, but now he wondered if they had a late-night visitor. Wouldn’t be the first time a raccoon got into the house.

Stan carefully moved to where he knew a light-switch for the oven’s light was and he braced himself for whatever was coming. He flicked it on and saw something out of the corner of his eye run into the hall. Did a chicken escape the coop? “C’mere you…” Stan growled and ran down the hall.

Nothing appeared on the stairs for the attic, or further down the hall for Jackie’s room, so maybe whatever it was went into the living room. Pan still at the ready for some whacking, Stan crept into the living room and relaxed his old boxing stance to find it empty. The farmer scratched at his mullet to try to think what could have slipped away from him and gotten into the fridge. Stan was in the hallway, going to put the pan away and clean up the pie, when he noticed a small draft and he checked the front door. Sure enough, something had broken the screen in the screen door.

Stan groaned and closed and locked the main door. Tate must have forgotten to close the door when he went to the truck to get something for bed. Well, after chores Stan would just have to repair the hole.

When Stan re-entered his attic bedroom, his eyes immediately caught his twin asleep on top of a book, a flashlight on the floor by his dangling arm. That nerd had a bad habit of never stopping until his body made him. Shaking his head with a smile, Stan slammed the door loudly on purpose, making Ford jump awake with a grunt. “Huh?! Wh… Stanley?”

“You know you’ll sleep better on your pillow, not a book, right?” Stan asked as he took off his robe and let it fall on the floor by his bed, leaving on his boxers and t-shirt.

Ford snorted and readjusted his lopsided glasses. “What were you doing up?” He yawned into his palm.

“Well I was gonna have some more pie,” Stan said as he sat on his bed. “But somethang raided our fridge n’ ruined my midnight snack.”

“Was it a raccoon again?” Ford asked as he folded his glasses and put them on his nightstand by his book.

“Maybe, but I got a glimpse of it before it ran off n’ the little bit I did see didn’t look nothin’ like a black n’ white thief.”

“Well…” Ford yawned again and said dozily, “It’s too early to think. Goodnight.” And he laid on his right side, his back to his brother, and quickly fell asleep.

Stan chuckled as he shook his head and laid down for some shut-eye.

* * *

After morning chores, Jackie walked in through the kitchen-door to grab something when she thought she heard the sound of a hammer down the hall. She peeked and found Stan on one knee in front of the door, working on putting a new screen over the door. “Broken screen?” She clarified as she stood by his side, her hands behind her back.

“Yeah, something chewed through n’ got into the house.” Stan shivered as he recalled the foggy memory. “It ran across my foot. Ugh, I can still feel it’s little fingers.”

“Yikes.” Jackie said and looked into the living room to find Tate coloring at the card table. “Well, since that pie’s gone, I’m gonna pick some blackberries for a cobbler. Should I make Tate help me or you got him?”

“Nah, some of those berries aren’t ready, you better pick ‘em.” Stan said as he stood up straight and wiped his hands clean. “I’m gonna take him with me into town to get some stuff from the store. Any requests?”

“Oh! Can you get some hot chilies, please?” Jackie quickly remembered.

“Sure. OY! Squirt!” Stan called and leaned against the doorway. “Wanna go into town with me? You can ride shotgun in the Stanmobile if you want?”

Tate grinned like a Cheshire cat and yelped, “Okay!” and then scooped up his crayons and book to put them away in his room.

“Sure you don’t wanna take Truffles into town?” Jackie asked, remembering Stan’s comment that the horse needs to travel every so often.

“With Tate?” Stan snorted. “Nah, wild thing isn’t ready for a kid. Let me break him a bit more n’ then we’ll see. Maybe take him out in the woods tomorrow. Maybe take a gal with me.” He added with a wink, making Jackie smile like an idiot as she shoved him in a playful manner.

“Well then good luck finding a date in town.” And she went back into the kitchen to grab a basket to berry-pick with.

Meanwhile, while Jackie worked on blackberry cobbler and Stan took Tate into town, Ford and Fiddleford were in the woods, equipped with a compass, a map, Ford’s journal, and a backpack on Fiddleford. A few days before Fiddleford arrived, Ford had placed several cameras in a variety of areas to try to get some idea of what they’re dealing with, a lead of some kind or evidence that there was something out there.

“Okay, that’s 1A, 1B, and 1C.” Ford checked off the map, his journal under his arm. “2A, 2B, and 2C were well intact. We just need 3A, 3B, and 3C. This way.”

“Ya sure ya know where you’re goin’?” Fiddleford checked. No offense to his friend, but all these oaks and pines looked the same to him.

“Don’t worry, I know these woods like the back of my hand.” Ford eased. “I used to spend a lot of time here with Stanley as kids. The trees are a great hiding place from bullies.” He chuckled at a memory and decided to share. “One time, we climbed up a big pinetree to hide from a group of kids, when one of the branches broke off and landed right on one of the kid’s head. Stanley says Pines got to stick together.”

Fiddleford laughed at the little joke as he followed Ford along the woods. They came to a small clearing and Ford stopped. “Here we are. Okay, up there should be Camera 3B. If you’ll get 3A down there, I’ll get 3B.”

“Gotcha.” Fiddleford found Camera 3A tucked into some leaves. He looked around for a third camera, and again, maybe he was just needing new glasses, but he didn’t see one. “Uh, Stanford, where’d ya put 3C?”

Up on a branch and untying a camera, Ford called and pointed. “Down there, by the rock.”

Fiddleford shuffled his feet in case he were to step on the camera, but he looked around and even felt the brush with his hands was startled to turn up empty-handed. “Uh… I ain’t findin’ it.”

“That’s odd, hold on, buddy, I’ll help you look.” Ford said and hopped down with the camera to search for Camera 3C. It truly wasn’t where Ford had placed it and it was nowhere around the clearing.

“Maybe a deer or rabbit took it?” Fiddleford speculated.

“Or a unicorn! Or a gremlin! Or a goblin!” Ford gasped with wonder sparkling in his brown eyes. “Or both!”

“Calm down there, Dr. Crackpot.” Fiddleford chuckled and made Ford smile. “Let’s just get this film developed before we get our hopes up higher than a Georgia pine.”

“Great, now you’re doing it, too.”

“No! No, I just… it was either that or higher than the Empire State buildin’, n’ we’re in the woods…”

“With a Pines.”

“… with a lot o’ pinetrees.” Fiddleford laughed at their fun babble and they followed the compass for the farm.

By the time Jackie was pulling a sweet-smelling cobbler out of the oven and about to go outside to check on the sheep, Tate and Stan came home with some groceries. Tate immediately dug around a bag once it was placed on the table, pulled out some Gummy Koalas, and ran off. Jackie gave Stan a skeptical look, to which the farmer just shrugged and pulled out a white paper bag full of hot red peppers.

“Oh, great, thanks.”

“No problem, missy.” Stan said as Jackie lunged a hand into the bag and he pulled out a box of freezy-pops to put in the freezer. “What, gonna make chili? Mexican food? Spicy fried chicken?”

“Nope.” And Jackie bit into a pepper and munched on it with a big smile.

Stan yelped in shock and quickly shut himself up, but that didn’t stop him from breaking a bead of sweat and his eye twitching at her. “What in Moses’s name are you doing?”

“Having a snack.” Jackie explained as she took a second bite, only leaving the stem. “It’ll be awhile ‘til dinner.”

“What, apples n’ bananas not good enough for you?”

“Nope.” Jackie repeated and bit into another one.

“Gah!” Stan yelled and grabbed his hair as he stared at her. “How do you do that?! Stop that!”

“Nope.” Jackie said a third time and happily finished her second chili.

With shivers on his back and an impressed smile that was impossible to miss, Stan left Jackie to shake her head and munch on her snack in peace.

Tate, at this time, was running into the living room, hoping to eat his candy in front of the TV, but his daddy and his daddy’s friend were in the living room already, stringing pictures up and they had a bunch of adult-looking equipment. “Daddy, whatcha doin’?” He asked.

“Hey there, sport.” Fiddleford said and took the time to give him a side hug as he watched a photo develop in the liquid-filled pan. “Just developin’ these photos here. They’ll help us figure out what we’re dealin’ with.”

“Oh. Can I help?” The boy asked hopefully.

“I don’t know if there anythang ya can do.” Fiddleford moved his back to his son and smiled. “Whatcha got there?”

Tate grinned and showed his daddy the gummies. “Uncle Stan gave ‘em t’me! He’s real nice.”

“He sure is. Did ya make sure t’tell him that n’ thank him.”

“Uh, huh.”

“Good.” And Fiddleford ruffled his hat to mess with his hair.

Ford smiled at the father and son duo and resumed his work, recording their findings. None of the pictures so far got a full image of anything, but glimpses here and there showed that something strange was out there. Ford stared at one picture that showed someone very short and what looked like the bottom of a beard. And in another photo, when Ford looked back on it, he realized that wasn’t a twig; it was a pointy hat. “Fiddleford, come look at this.”

Fiddleford moved away from his son and towards his friend and he stared at the image that had caught Ford’s attention. “Oh… oh my…”

“I know.”

“Whatcha reckon that there is?”

Tate looked at the picture and noticed the red circle on another one. He grinned and called out, “Gnomes!”

The three turned to look back at the doorway of the living room and they saw Stan laughing at them, shaking his head. “Gnomes?! Ma used to use ‘em for an excuse for when socks went missin’, remember Sixer? There ain’t no such thing as gnomes. Except the stone ones you get at the store.”

“Ya don’t believe in gnomes, Uncle Stan?” Tate asked.

“Stanley doesn’t believe in the supernatural.” Ford answered with a roll of his eyes and he tried to resume his work. “Even as kids you couldn’t spook him with stories about monsters or ghosts or anything like that. But show him a picture of a r-…”

“Alright, that’s enough outta you, Poindexter!” Stan scooped up Tate, making the boy giggle, and held him under his arm. “I ain’t gonna let you poison this poor kid’s brain with nerd talk. C’mon, I’ll show you how to rangle in sheep.”

“Be careful, son.” Fiddleford called after them. “N’ stay outta the stalls! Don’t mess with Truffles!”

“Okay.”

The evening that came was cool and pleasant, perfect porch-sitting weather. Stan finished his freezy-pop first and read the joke that was now revealed to him for finishing his treat. “Okay okay, what is a ghost’s favorite ice-cream flavor?”

“Oh!” Tate gasped with his hand in the air, sitting on the steps with a banana-flavored pop in his hand. “Oh! Boo-berry!”

“It’s definitely Boo-berry.” Fiddleford said, sitting next to his son.

“How about cookies and scream?” Ford guessed.

Stan chuckled as he rocked in his chair. “I’m gonna say Corpse-mellon. N’ it… huh.” Stan looked all over the stick, but there was no answer to the joke. “It’s blank.”

“Blank stick?” Ford paraphrased. “That’s a bad omen, Stanley. Be careful, something terrible might happen.”

“Yeah,” Stan said slowly and shook his head. “You’re off your rocker, Sixer.”

“I am not!”

Jackie, who had been standing as she ate, sneakily pushed her foot down on the back of Ford’s rocker. On reflex, he leaned forward and Jackie released just in time for the six-fingered nerd to lose his balance and fall forward and on his face. The whole gang laughed while Ford got up red-faced. Stan patted Jackie’s back and howled with laughter, “I love this gal!”

* * *

Jackie was checking the cornfields to make sure everything was in order when she could hear some familiar sheep sounds. She stretched her neck to look past some corn and she saw little Dot wiggling past the short fence and skip into the woods. Jackie yelled in shock and ran after the lamb, grateful that this time it wasn’t storming and the sun was shining brightly. “Gosh darn it, Dot! Your ma sucks at keeping an eye on you!”

Because Jackie was so close this time and not blinded by rain, she actually managed to scoop up the lamb quickly. She smacked the lamb a little bit, Stan giving her permission to spank any naughty animals, and she hugged Dot so she would know she was forgiven. A snap of a twig made Jackie jerk her head upward and she listened and kept her eyes sharp. Now she knew Ford and Fiddleford were out in the woods again, close to a breakthrough according to the nerds, so she was sure it was one of them heading home or passing by. How funny it would be to come across each other. So you can imagine how shocked Jackie was to find a little bearded man standing on a rock and looking up at her.

Jackie bit her lip to keep from yelling; she wouldn’t like it if someone yelled at her due to the shock of her appearance, and she didn’t want to scare this weird creature away. The pointy hat and beard told Jackie that this was definitely a gnome. It’s beard was all over the place and gray and the gnome had a big-ish nose and a bit of an overbite with some misshapen teeth, but his eyes, though lopsided and slightly cross eyed, were warm and this creature gave off a kind atmosphere.

Jackie smiled and got on one knee with the lamb in her arms. “Hello.”

The gnome lifted a little arm and wiggled his fingers at her politely. Jackie freed a hand and held it out to him to either shake or hop on. Whichever he wanted. The gnome smiled at her and hopped up on her palm, sitting with his hands prompting him up from behind.

“What a nice lil’ guy.” Jackie complimented. “What’s your name?”

“Shmebulock. Senior.” The gnome croaked.

“I’m Jackie, nice to meet you.” The human smiled while the lamb sniffed the air around Shmebulock. “Wow, a real gnome. I’ve got a friend who’d love to meet you.”

“Shmebulock.”

Jackie raised an eyebrow, but decided to let it go. Maybe gnomes were limited in speech. Before she could ask another question, Shmebulock whistled loudly. Jackie barely had time to register that she was faced with dozens of other gnomes and she screamed in horror when they leaped from the trees for her and Dot.

Jackie’s scream was heard by Ford and Fiddleford, who were currently setting up the cameras again, dropped everything, no questions asked, and ran as fast as they could for Fiddleford’s truck and drove in the direction they feared Jackie was in danger. There was a thick dirt road leading deeper into the woods the men ran on and they saw a truly unusual sight at the edge of the trees.

Jackie was running for her life with a lamb in her arms, a crowd of gnomes behind her. Fiddleford stopped the car and Jackie hopped in the truck before it sped off to try to lose the gnomes. She huffed and puffed, her heart going as fast as the truck, and Ford opened the back window to check on her from the passenger’s seat. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, we’re fine.” Jackie breathed and Dot “bah”ed happily.

Ford smiled at them and gasped with amazement and wonder as one huge gnome, made out of dozens of small gnomes, ran after them, looking like Santa Clause on his period, red all over with sharp teeth and hat and a big beard. “Wow.” He awed and pulled out his journal to begin sketching.

“DRIVE, FIDDS!” Jackie yelled.

The giant threw gnomes like darts and some of them landed in the truck. While Jackie kicked one off the car, Shmebulock Senior was being slammed against the steering wheel by Fiddleford’s hand, but then one leaped on his face, building him and veering the truck off course. Ford punched the gnome off of his friend, only leaving behind a black eye on the driver.

“Thanks, Ford.” Fidds groaned.

“Don’t mention it. Hey, what’s that?” Ford asked and pointed ahead.

The three humans screamed as the truck ran right into an oak tree. They then held their heads and groaned as they stumbled out of the truck. Poor Fiddleford was a nervous wreck over the wreck. “My truck!”

“Don’t worry, I can fix it.” Ford tried to comfort his friend, ignoring the tire that just popped and the bumper that just fell off. “Probably.”

“At least we lost… oh, no we didn’t.” Jackie held Dot closer to her chest as the giant gnome was before them.

Ford stood in front of Jackie, Fiddleford, and Dot protectively, his arms outstretched, as the gnomes broke away to better surround them and insure there was no way out. The little men of the forest growled and snarled like animals, until a loud voice commanded silence. “ENOUGH!”

Slithering out from the shadows like a snake, but rather on a long white beard than a scaly body, came a gnome much older looking and much different from the other gnomes. This gnome carried a staff with a mushroom on top, wore purple instead of red, had a crown and a red cape, and his voice was as sour as lemons and his eyes were green with envy. Those green, empty, creepy eyes were on Jackie, and while all the gnomes bowed to their king, this guy dipped his head respectively to her.

“My Queen!” He cheered happily. “The time has come to fulfill your destiny!”

“EW, WHAT?!” Jackie yelled. “Nu, huh! No way!”

“Leave her alone!” Ford demanded.

“As it is written, in the Prophecy of Shmizzledorph…”

“Go away!” Fiddleford interrupted.

“… the Prophecy…!” But Ford threw one of his boots at the gnome and the king yelped out a sharp, “Ouch! Alright, fine! You want her back? There’s only one way…”

The gnomes around them giggled, anticipating that they would walk away with a new queen tonight. Jackie stuck out his tongue at them.

“You must answer… A RIDDLE!”

Ford, Fiddleford, and Jackie all blinked at the over-exaggerating king. Ford shrugged and said, “Fine, I like a good riddle.”

“What… IS A GHOST’S FAVORITE ICE-CREAM FLAVOR?!”

Now the humans were nervous. Nervous, surprised, and maybe a little bit impressed. The three huddled like they were about to play football and rambled off ideas.

“Boo-berry!” Fiddleford whispered.

“Cookies and scream!” Ford hissed.

“Stanford, go with Fidds’ answer.” Jackie voted quietly.

“But what if it’s not boo-berry?” Ford asked nervously. “Then you’ll have to be that creep’s queen.”

“But what if it’s not cookies and scream?” Jackie returned.

With a squeeze on his old roommate’s shoulder, Fiddleford gave Ford that softer facial expression and whispered, “Stanford, trust me.”

Ford thought for a moment, took in a deep breath, and nodded. The team broke away and Ford faced the king who was elevated by his own beard. “Boo-berry?”

The gnome was silent. Ford feared he was wrong, but then, “IMPOSSIBAAAAAAAAAAAAALE!”

The humans held each other as the gnomes were then all turned into stone, the little statues they were destined to become. With Fiddleford sandwiched between Ford and Jackie, they watched as the king turned to stone and a little bird landed peacefully on his outstretched hand.

“Huh,” Fiddleford quipped when their protective hug was loosening. “I didn’t actually think that would work.”

The trio worked together to push Fiddleford’s truck back home, but not without a souvenir. As Ford placed a gnome on the porch step, Jackie sat Dot down and let the lamb skip off to join the other sheep. “Thanks for saving my butt back there, guys.”

“Hey, we wouldn’t let you get dragged off into the woods to marry that creep.” Fiddleford reassured her teasingly with a light shove on the shoulder.

“And really, we should be thanking you.” Ford gently corrected. “Thanks to you we finally got what was on our cameras! And I have plenty to write about in the journal! Thank you, Jackie.”

The only lady on the farm couldn’t keep the smile off her face until Stan slammed the door open with Tate by his side. “Whoa, what happened to you three?” He asked, noting the scrapes, Fiddleford’s black eye, and the leaves in Jackie’s hair. “You get hit by a bus or something?”

“If we told you, you wouldn’t believe us, Stanley.” Ford said daringly, his eyes sparkling with mischief and a prideful smirk on his smug face.

Stan grinned and crossed his arms over his chest while Tate ran into Fiddleford’s arms for a hug. “Try me.”

* * *

Ford yawned into his six-fingered hand as he ruffled his brown hair and wandered towards the kitchen. “Mm, thank Moses Stan didn’t eat all the strawberry cobbler.”

He turned on the light and gasped to find a gnome standing by the open fridge, helping himself to the cobbler, which was lying on the floor. The gnome screeched and scampered past his feet and Ford ran after it to see it run through a hole in the screendoor. The young scientist hurried out the door and watched the gnome run off into the woods. The stone-gnome on the step was gone.

“This is bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I liked Jeff, I loved the Gnome King even better, so in this AU the riddle placed a temporary curse on the gnomes so the queen can escape, and the gnomes are now honor-bounded by the gnome Shmizzledorph to never seek her again, but after twelve hours the gnomes are freed from their stone prisons, so except to see them and the King again. ;)


	5. The Party in the Barn

Jackie was folding laundry on the porch to enjoy the nice weather. Soft, fluffy, warm towels made the farmhand feel proud of her work (the towels were kinda scratchy and stiff when she first came a month ago). Her eyes averted from her folding up ahead to her boss, who was chopping woods on an old tree stump.

His shirt was almost completely unbuttoned to help his sweaty body cool down. A golden chain just barely grazed his thick chest hair, showcased by the created V. His stance was strong and his arms tightened his muscles as he swung the axe down on a sorry piece of wood. Occasionally he had to bend over to place a new log on the tree stump, giving Jackie a very pleasant view through his jeans. After a few minutes of Stan’s show and of Jackie not getting anything done, her hands frozen on a towel in her lap, Stan stopped his work and turned away from the sun as he wiped his forehead dry of sparkling sweat; Jackie barely looked away in time and if it wasn’t for Stan’s eyesight adjusting to the lack of sunshine, he might have caught his admirer.

Fiddleford came out with a glass of sweet tea in his hand and breathed in the wonderful late-afternoon air. He noticed at once that something was slightly out of the ordinary, and one look at Jackie’s glossy eyes and Stan’s half-exposed body as he picked up the lumber told the Tennessian everything he needed to know. The second Stan entered the house to put the logs where they belonged, Fiddleford gently elbowed Jackie as he stood next to her rocking chair. “Well, kettle my corn, somebody’s in love.”

Jackie rolled her eyes and smiled smugly up at her friend. “Yeah, right. Stan’s just a cool guy. It’s not like I lie awake at night thinking about him.”

* * *

Jackie laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling, tucked into her bed with one arm draped over her chest, and her eyes wide with energy. She could feel a rock being plunged into her stomach as it dawned on her that Fiddleford might have been right. “Uh, oh.”

* * *

Stan was whittling a small piece of wood in his hands as he sat on the porch, rocking in his chair. The sounds of laughter made him glance up from his work and he smiled to see Jackie and Tate playing. It was a basic game of tag, but they were both laughing joyfully and Tate was grinning like it was the best day of his life. For a few minutes Jackie purposely went slow, but then she sped up, caught Tate in her arms, and plopped down on the ground to tickle his ribs. Tate squirmed and squealed as Jackie laughed alongside him, hers less force than the boy’s.

Stan smiled and watched them from the corner of his eye as he whistled a tiny tree; Tate seemed to enjoy the toy train he had made for him, so he was secretly working on tracks and trees and houses and people so the kid could build a village for the train to ride around. It was something entertaining for Stan to do in his free time and he knew it would make a good birthday gift or a present for the holidays. As he worked and watched Jackie play with Tate, his thoughts reverted back to his feelings for the farm-woman.

Was it wrong for him to be crazy for his employee? Probably, but who cares? They hardly had a boss-worker relationship; if anything it was a firm friendship that just came so easily it was like they had known each other for years. With Jackie, it was just so easy, but that didn’t mean it was predictable; Jackie was spontaneous, passionate, and different, everything Stan valued in a person. Not only was she a hard worker, but she was really smart, creative, the best cook he had ever met, and really really beautiful. Anyone would get a crush on her, so why should he? For the time, Stan was content that a woman as amazing as her would never have a crush on him, not in a million years, so with any luck his little crush on her will die and no one important will get their feelings hurt.

* * *

In the middle of May Stan and Ford told Fiddleford and Jackie about a hoedown that took place at the end of May to mark the beginning of summer. It was hosted in a huge barn and everyone pitched in to help with the food and there was music and dancing and everyone had a great time; word on the street was that it even beat the Northwests’ annual fancy shindig. So the weak of the party Jackie was excused from work on the farm so she could spend more time in the kitchen, meaning Ford and Fiddleford had to pitch in and save their investigations on the unicorns for another time.

It wasn’t a fancy party, but people usually dressed up a little bit, almost like going to church. Ford went for his blue t-shirt with green flannel and clean jeans and he polished his black shoes that clicked on wood beautifully. Fiddleford went for a more casual army-green floral shirt, a favorite from back at Backupsmore, and he put Tate in a red short-sleeved button-up. Stan opted for clean jeans and a light-merlot button-up, but Jackie was perfectly happy to wear a plain white dress that went down to her knees and came with noodle straps. She decorated the outfits with black heels to match her curly hair, which she somehow managed to control without losing its breath-taking fullness.

Stan found himself staring for a creepy amount of time, but she was too busy trying to get her food together to notice. The Diablo was packed full with food so Stan and Jackie drove in that car while Ford, Fiddleford, and Tate rode in the newly repaired blue truck. The large barn sat a few yards from a huge lake and at the top of a hill, a smaller barn filled with hay to the side and a white fence establishing the boundaries of the property. Already the barn was busting with music and laughter and vehicles and even two horses stood outside the party. Stan and Ford helped Jackie with the food while Fiddleford held Tate’s hand and had his banjo over his shoulder, and they entered.

The newcomers awed at the hustle and bustle. On a stage a bass, an acoustic guitar, a cello, a harmonica, and some spoons were being played by some townsfolk. Many more were dancing in the wide open space care-free. Kids Tate’s age were holding hands and swinging, Toby Determined was doing a lonely tap-dance, that dweeb Durland was spinning a lady too fast and making her cross-eyed, and Ma and Pa from Dusk 2 Dawn were holding each other as they danced. Most people were doing a big group dance together, but some were over at the long tables filled with good food. 

Susan was stirring hot apple cider and spooning mugs full for people, Manly Dave had brought his family recipe of Cages Full of Meat, and there were platters and bowls filled with delicious ham, turkey, cobblers and pies of every berry and fruit that existed, green beans, collared greens, salad, macaroni salad, potato salad, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, fried okra, smoked ribs, smoked pork, boiled peanuts, jugs full of moonshine, and barrels full of taffy and candy. Jackie happily added her Lemon Meringue pie, grilled chicken, fried chicken, boiled potatoes, yeast rolls with cinnamon butter, cranberry sauce, spinach dip and crackers, and a huge pot filled with jambalaya made with Cajun sausage, onions, bell peppers, tomatoes, and rice. All that food could feed three New York Cities, let alone little Gravity Falls, but with all the dancing and activity going on the food was happily accepted and the night was off to a wonderful start.

Jackie happily chatted with Susan at the long tables while the men dispersed. Fiddleford was invited to play with the others on stage, Ford began to play chess with some of the old men in the back of the barn, and Stan happily took Tate out on the dancefloor and let him stand on his boots to lead.

The sun was soon gone but the night was lit up by not only the huge light fixtures in the barn, but the strings of lights on the walls, and rustic exposed lightbulbs at the door, and the little lights on the grass to highlight the walkway from the party to the rides home. Fireflies buzzed around as well; a few kids left the loud party to play among the bugs and let the flickering lights crawl into their outstretched hands.

As the moon got higher and higher into the sky, the part continued to be very enjoyable. While Tate was busy making quick friends with Tyler Cutebiker, Stan dragged his twin out on the dancefloor and made him dance. Fiddleford took a break from playing his banjo and somehow ended up dancing with Susan. Jackie happily danced alone by the tables and enjoyed the blissful music. As much fun as the party was, her energy was running out and she could do with some quiet. She decided to go outside and watch the kids play.

Out in the cool late-spring air Jackie breathed peacefully as she watched the children run around, but soon she wanted to be alone and explore her new surroundings. That smaller barn was a ways away, so she slipped into the shadows and ventured towards it. Jackie quietly slid the door open and smiled to find a single lantern hanging on the wall and the barn filled to the brim with blocks of hay. It smelled clean here and it was quiet and lovely, so Jackie made her way to a wall and sat on two blocks of hay, taking off her heels to rub her sore feet. No blisters, thank goodness, but standing and dancing for so long will make your feet ache.

In the silence and with nothing better to do, Jackie resumed her thought about Stan. Was it wrong for her to fall for her employer? Probably, but who cares? They hardly had a boss-worker relationship; if anything it was a firm friendship that just came so easily it was like they had known each other for years. Stan was just so easy to talk to, so comfortable to be around, but that didn’t mean he was predictable; Stan was spontaneous, passionate, and different, everything Jackie valued in a person. Not only was he a hard worker, but he was clever, considerate, a true-blue family man, and really really beautiful. Anyone would get a crush on Stanley Pines, so why should she? But Jackie could swallow that a man as amazing as him would never have a crush on her, not in a million years, so with any luck her little crush on him will die and no one important will get their feelings hurt.

The door opened slowly, still managing to make Jackie jump a little, but she smiled and relaxed at seeing Stan at the entrance.

He had been having a lot of fun at the party, but he had planned on dragging Jackie out to dance, having noticed that no one had danced with her (she must have danced with at least of one of handsome guys here and Stan just didn’t see it, there’s no way a girl that pretty had resorted to wall-hugging all night) and he planned to fix that, but he soon noticed that Jackie was nowhere to be found. Checking to make sure she didn’t get eaten by a mountain lion, Stan exited the big barn and watched the kids for a minute before guessing she was in the smaller barn away from the crowds and noise. He smiled when he saw he was correct and leaned against the doorway. “Hey, whatcha doin’ over here?”

Jackie shrugged casually. “Just needed some alone time.”

Stan nodded and drastically changed his plans to give her what she needed. He let his arm fall from the doorway and said, “Gotcha, okay, I’ll see you…”

“No,” Jackie said too quickly and felt herself go red with embarrassment. “I-I mean, I can be alone with you.” She quickly explained and then swallowed nervously. That didn’t make any sense, she wasn’t making any sense! But the way this guy made her feel didn’t make sense, either.

Stan saw her nervousness and smiled at it; the best dating advice Ma had ever given him was to never a date someone who wasn’t nervous around you; if they’re nervous that means they like you. He made a mental note to not put up too much of a brave front and then he entered the barn and closed the door behind him. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Jackie smiled, not as nervous now, and watched as Stan plopped himself down on the hay-coated floor, resting an arm next to where Jackie sat. He popped his neck and yawned, comfortable and relaxed, one leg bent up and the other laying flat. He turned his head to look up at Jackie, resting his square jaw on his knuckles, and asked, “So whatcha thinkin’ about?”

Jackie leaned forward so her elbows her on her knees and one hand was just under her chin. “I was thinking how this has got to be one of the best parties I’ve ever been to.”

Stan snorted. “Really? Guess it ain’t so bad. I’ve never missed a single one. Great graduation celebration or a ‘welcome home’ event for college students. One year Ford n’ I snuck out n’ went over to the lake to swim, but Shermie caught us n’ tried to pull us out, but we dragged him in n’ we all got in trouble for it.” He chuckled.

Jackie giggled along with him and commented, “I’ve actually never been to a lake. I’ve visited a beach, but not a lake yet.”

“We’ll fix that.” Stan said. “The beach, though, huh? Always wanted to see one. Where else’ve you been?”

“Everywhere.” Jackie said. “I was a bit of a traveler before stopping here. Never been outside the country.”

“What was your favorite place?”

“New Orleans.” Jackie answered quickly. “They had the most delicious beignets and seafood and the jazz was beautiful, and the ocean was so beautiful. I really liked southern California, too, the beach was amazing and I made a lot of Hispanic friends there.”

“Any reason why you left?” Stan asked; with such good friends and great places, the farmer couldn’t help but wonder why didn’t she stay.

“Too busy and loud.” Jackie said. “I love the occasional crowds, but I wanted some place quieter and easier to find work, so that’s why I came up here.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.” Stan said earnestly, in such a deep, meaningful tone that it made Jackie’s face hot again and she looked away as she gently shook her head.

“You give me too much credit, Stan…”

“No, Jackie, I mean it.” Stan swallowed nervously, making his Adam’s apple bobble, and he went on with his eyes on the beautiful girl above him. “I’m not just butterin’ you up, I think you’re real pretty, n’ I mean it when I say you’re probably the best thing that ever happened to our place. Even without your killer cookin’ n’ extra help, I’m just really happy you’re around. I don’t know how I can make it up to you, but I’ll think of somethin’.” He had carefully worded his compliment so Jackie could take it as a friend making a friend feel good if that was all she wanted, but he had meant it as so much more and wanted it to be so much more, so it was all up to Jackie now.

She noticed the nervous look in his soft brown eyes and smiled. Was there a possibility, a teeny tiny possibility, that he liked her the same way she liked him. She could be dead wrong, she could lose everything she had worked for the last few weeks and everything she had grown to love. Goodbye, Dot. Goodbye, Tate. Goodbye Pines farm filled with some of the best people she had ever met. But she took a gamble, tried to ease her nerves as discreetly as possible, and she said quietly, “You could kiss me.”

Stan’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and his brown eyes sparkled adorably. Jackie bit her lip to keep from laughing at the look on his face, her heart relaxing and her nerves settling as she realized how much he wanted to kiss her. His grin was the last thing she saw before he stretched up and she leaned down and they met for a soft kiss.

The amount of sparks that flew only through lips touching was unbelievable. As a strong hand cupped Jackie’s cheek and a smaller hand landed on the back of Stan’s head, the kiss deepened and it only got better. Holy Moses, it was far better than anything Jackie could have imagined in her head, all those night daydreaming about this moment, and more, and it was better and full of more bliss than she thought it would be. She was putty at Stan’s touch, and as another arm wrapped around her waist and the kiss included it’s fair share of tongue, Jackie slid down from her little seat until she was sitting on the ground beside Stan.

Warm chuckles of pure joy leaked from their lips and for a while it was nothing more than hugs and kisses, but it was everything. Stan was blown away that such a beautiful woman wanted to hold him and kiss him, of all people, and he knew better than to question a good thing. His heart was roaring like a lion in his chest, his face was warm despite the goosebumps on his arms, and while he was beyond grateful for just a kiss he wondered if he was lucky enough for more.

They separated for air and Jackie rested her head on the cushion of Stan’s arm, his free hand on her knee. Stan’s cheeks and ears were rosy pink, his five o-clock shadow unable to hide how the girl in his arms made him feel. Jackie smiled at him, unable to believe she was so lucky, and put a hand over his heart to enjoy his heartbeat, but then she slowly unbuttoned his shirt a little to let his chest hair be showcased by a proud V. At the same time, Stan’s hand slowly went down her bent leg, closer and closer to her hip, pushing her white dress up. With a gleam in their eyes and one sure smirk, they both knew what they wanted.

* * *

There were still some stragglers at the party, mostly drunk men singing their hearts out, but Ford and Fiddleford were ready to go. Tate was asleep so Fiddleford gently tucked him in his car seat as Ford looked around for Jackie and Stan. It wasn’t a big deal to leave without them, they had brought two cars, but still. Curiosity had grasped his mind and he generally wondered where they were. Fiddleford cleared his throat and suggested, “Maybe we should go ahead home, Fordsie.”

“I suppose so,” Ford said casually and nodded in agreement. “But if they get arrested for trespassing, I’m not… SWEET LORD!” Ford put a six-fingered hand over his mouth to stop his screaming, but his other hand was pointing at the couple who had hoped they could emerge from the shadows undetected, but that clearly wasn’t going to work out.

They were covered in hay. Both Jackie’s long black hair and Stan’s brown mullet were frizzled and out of control, like someone had shaken their hair wildly. Or grabbed it tightly. Jackie’s white dress was missing, but she held Stan’s button up around herself tightly to preserve what little dignity she had left. Stan, shirtless, had a dopey grin on his face with hazy eyes, like he was sleepwalking. While Stan was oblivious to his twin’s scream, Jackie’s face was scarlet with embarrassment and she rubbed the back of her neck as she gritted her teeth.

Poor Ford was a mumbling mess. “B-B-B-But… you… you two… you… and you…”

Fiddleford patted his shoulder and instructed gently, “Stanford, get in the truck.”

“B-B-B-B-But…”

“I know, I know, just get in. Leave ‘em be.” Fiddleford guided his best friend into the car and even closed the door for him. While Ford buried his head in his hands to try to collect himself, Fiddleford gave the happy couple a thumbs up before entering his vehicle and heading home.

Jackie wanted to disappear and never reappear.

Stan, however, was far too busy repeating a single thought in his head to even register what was going on in front of him. _“I’m gonna marry her.”_


	6. DD&MD

Jackie was wide awake a good hour before the sun would rise, before Clock would wake the whole house, and yet she didn’t have the strength to get out of bed. Her mind was swimming with so many thought she felt like she was drowning.

Last night she had sex with Stanley Pines, her employer and friend. What the hell was she thinking?! She was thinking he was beautiful and smart and kind and everything she had ever wanted she just wanted to hold him forever, and thus it resorted to her losing her white dress to hay and walking out of a barn in Stan’s shirt and being caught red-handed by Ford and Fiddleford. (Thank God Tate was asleep and didn’t ask questions; if he had been awake Jackie probably would’ve killed herself.)

Her mind replayed what Stan had said to her before they got busy. He seemed to have meant those nice things he said to her, not just saying it to get her to undress. Jackie was a pretty decent reader of character, so okay, at the absolute very least Stan liked her. He wasn’t going to kick her out or dump her. But did he want to do it again? She knew she wanted to at some point, but…

Jackie groaned and laid on her stomach as she buried her face in her pillow. Really, would it be the end of the world if they were together? Probably not, but did Stan even want that? Jackie wanted to think so, but a small voice in the back of her mind told her he only saw her as an employee with benefits and to not get her hopes up. And of course there were the other men in the house. Ford was mortified when he discovered what they had done, but Jackie considered that it was only because he did not want to think about his twin having sex. Fiddleford, who had been married and even had a son, seemed a little too understanding and supportive. Jackie didn’t think she could stand to see their faces today, so she made up her mind to get up now, do her chores quickly before anyone else woke up, and lock herself in her room until dinner.

While the coffee pot brewed, Jackie quickly mixed together some simple blueberry muffins. While they baked in the oven, she quickly fed the chickens and watered the sheep and let them out onto the field. By the time she re-entered the kitchen the muffins were perfect and she let them cool while she tidied the sheep’s barn and gave them fresh hay. Jackie had just fixed her mug of coffee and plated herself two muffins when she heard footsteps and she hurried into her bedroom to indulge in a book.

It took a hot shower and a few sips of coffee for Stan to realize what Jackie had done. He laughed at himself to find the morning chores done and an easy breakfast laid out on the table. Shaking his head, he happily munched on a muffin on his way to the big barn to milk Luna and brush Truffles and he decided that he would check on her later.

* * *

As the day wore on, as the sun crept higher and higher up the sky, dark clouds drifted into the scenery and hid the sun. Ford and Fiddleford had just enough time to retrieve their cameras so they could spend the rainy afternoon developing the photos in the thinking parlor before it started pouring down. It never escalated into thunder and lightning, but it was a merciless rain that kept the animals sleeping inside their barns and nests, but thankfully the lack of wind made it okay to sit on the porch and watch the rain, and that’s what Stan did until he fell asleep in his chair.

That left the four-year-old to snuggle up with a blanket on the couch and watch TV, but nothing good was on. Tate huffed and turned it off to try to think of what to do so he wouldn’t be bored no more. He could read a book, but he had done that yesterday. He could play with his toys in his room, but he didn’t feel like it. He wanted to get up and move, but it was raining too hard to play outside, Daddy said so when he came back with Uncle Ford with the cameras, so Tate decided he would do exploring.

He liked this house. It was big but not too big and it felt like home. He really liked it here, and though he knew it wasn’t good to be a sneaky peaky spy, Daddy and Uncle Ford and Uncle Stan and Auntie Jackie never got mad. Tate knew what most of the room were and where most doors led to, but there was one in the hallway that he didn’t know where it led to, so Tate opened it and he beamed to find raincoats, a vacuum, and a box of board games on the floor so Tate could reach.

Tate grinned and decided to pick a game to play. Maybe Daddy would wanna play, or when Uncle Stan wakes up he would wanna play. There was a small box of cards on the top of the stack; Tate thought it would be a good idea to play Go Fish. Tate saw Connect Forty-Four, Don’t Wake Stalin, Battle Chutes and Ladder Ships, but the game on top of the stack and right below the cards a game caught Tate’s eye. He liked the big red dragon behind the funny looking wizard, some kinda monster with big lips, and the pretty elf with the unicorn, all above a table of people playing the game.

Take picked up the green box and smiled. He was only four, but Daddy taught him how to read, so he could read the game and the rules. It looked like fun!

Meanwhile, Ford stretched his arms over his head and left the thinking parlor for a drink of water and possibly a snack. He looked down the hall and smiled when he found Tate in front of the closet where they kept the board games, holding a box he found intriguing. “Hello, Tate,” Ford said and walked up to him.

“Hi, Uncle Ford!” Tate piped and looked up at him and showed him the box in his hands. “Lookie what I found!”

Ford instantly recognized the well-used fantasy-talking, level-counting, statistics and graph-paper involved game from college and grinned. “Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons! That’s my favorite game in the whole Multiverse! I used to play with your father and some other fans of the game back in Backupsmore.”

“Can we play it now?” Tate asked.

Ford held his cleft chin in thought and smiled down at his best friend’s son. Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons was usually a complex and thoughtful game; you had to have a prepared Quest Master for starters, create a character and fill out a character-sheet, and use math and statistics a bit too advanced for the average four-year-old, but Tate wasn’t the average four-year-old. Ford knew he wasn’t good with kids and so he had somewhat kept his distance, but Fiddleford had often said the two were very similar and Ford was quicker to notice the similarities between the father and son, so Ford shrugged and got on one knee to be eye-level with the boy. He might not know much about kids, but he did know a lot about this. “Yes, I suppose we can play. This game involves both math and imagination, so I’m sure someone was intelligent as you will love it.”

Tate grinned at the compliment and watched Ford grab a black backpack from the closet’s shelf and then followed him to the living room to play on the card table. Luckily Ford had what he needed to be a Quest Master and knew the game well enough for the job, so he let Tate use a basic character to learn how to play and to see if he would like it. Ford looked out for any sign that the boy wasn’t having fun, but Tate took to it like a fish to water. The minute he learned he had to fill out a character sheet to play for real, he begged to fill one out and Ford happily showed him how to roll the dice and earn his character’s traits and skill-set.

Soon Ford had Tate the elf go on a magical quest. Tate found a dungeon by a river when he used his sword to cut away some plants, and Tate now had to battle boody-traps and devious gremlins to win the game. Ford started to roll dice in a normal manner, but after a while he reverted to his unique way: weaving the dice in between his fingers and picking it back up with his thumb, starting the cycle all over again. Tate nearly lost his mind and demanded to see it again. With hot cheeks, Ford happily showed the boy his little trick and Tate instantly tried to do it, too, but Ford chuckled and explained that it took lots of practice, and then it was back to the game.

“Alright, you enter the chamber.” Ford narrated, in his element, with the models in front of him and his guide for what to do, determined on what Tate rolled. Tate decided that he liked the way Uncle Ford told stories. “Princess Unattainable beckons you, but wait! It’s a trap!” Tate gasped in horror as Ford wiggled his twelve fingers and imitated an evil grin. “An illusion cast by Probabilitor the Annoying!”

“Oh no!” Tate yelled and shook the dice in his combined fists. “I’ll get him with my sword!”

“Hold on, he only has one weakness.” Ford chuckled. “Prime statistical anomalies over 37 but exceeding 51.”

“Oh. Isn’t an anomaly a weird thingy in the woods?”

Ford laughed; of course this kid would first associate the word with Ford and Fiddleford’s field research. “Yes, but… okay, okay, here’s what you do. You see the dice with 38 sides? Roll that with these two, and then I’ll roll these three, and then we get to do some math to see who wins.”

“Yay! Math!” Tate quickly rolled his three dice and Ford rolled his. Ford even took the time to show Tate on his notepad why you should add certain numbers together, and it looked like Tate barely beat Probabilator’s illusion. “Yes! I did it!”

“Good job!” Ford said and ruffled Tate’s hat. “You’ve Probabilitor on the ropes! Now…”

“Oh ho, so this is where you disappeared to.”

“Hi Daddy!” Tate said happily as Fiddleford stood at the doorway, smiling and amused by the scene before him. “Uncle Ford’s teachin’ me how t’play Dungeons, Dungeons n’ More Dungeons n’ be an elf n’ kick Probabilitor’s butt!”

Fiddleford raised an eyebrow at his old college roommate, his smile still standing. “You dug out that old game, then?”

“More like your son was nosy and I couldn’t resist teaching him a trick or two.” Ford answered with a chuckle and ruffled Tate’s hat to show there were no hard feelings.

“Ugh, are you serious?” Tate and Ford looked over to find that Stan had returned, rubbing his eyes with his fists, awoken by the sounds of dorks. “You’re teaching squirt that nerd game?”

“It’s not a nerd game, Stanley, you would like it if you gave it a chance.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer to do my dice rolling in Vegas.”

“C’mon, Uncle Stan, don’tcha wanna play?” Tate asked and smiled up at him. “You’re always a lot of fun to play with! You can even pick the weapon I get Probabilitor with!”

Stan couldn’t hide the blush in his face. Before he could answer, Jackie walked behind Stan swiftly for a drink of water, but Tate saw her and quickly said, “Auntie Jackie’ll play, won’t you?”

Jackie jumped and darted her eyes all over the room. She ignored Stan and Fiddleford’s smug looks and tried to piece together what the boy wanted. “Um… what?”

“Dungeons, Dungeons, n’ More Dungeons.” Tate explained and even held up the box’s lid for her. “Can’t we all play together, pwease pwease pwease?” He begged, and even puckered his bottom lip out a little bit to sweeten the deal.

Jackie smiled sympathetically as she exchanged facial expressions with the adults. It wasn’t fair to Tate that there was no one his age to play with or to keep him company. While he had never once complained, it meant a lot of his free time was spent playing alone or helping with chores just so he had somebody to talk to. Just for one afternoon, it couldn’t hurt to give in and do this one thing the child clearly desperately wanted.

“I don’t see why not.” She said with a shrug. “Never played, but I’ve heard good things about it. Why don’t I pop some popcorn and make hot chocolate for a snack?”

“Great idea!” Fiddleford backed up. “I’ll go get my old character sheet!”

“Alright, Stanley come here and I’ll help you create your character.”

“Ugh, do I gotta be some sparkly elf or something?”

“No, you can be whatever you want to be. An ogre, a fairy, a centaur…”

“You had me at ogre! I’m gonna have my own swamp and kick out any annoying fairytale creatures!”

Later that evening, after all the characters had been set and the game was ready to begin, the card table became too filled to function, so everything was laid out on the floor and everyone sat in pajamas and snacked on bowls of popcorn, pretzels, chipackcerz, and mugs of hot chocolate. Clipboards for the players’ character sheets, colorful dice, and notepads also littered the living room, and as the room was lit with candles and the wood-burning fireplace to give it a spooky feel, Ford happily narrated his players through the game. “After your victory against the clan of goblins, you rest at a pub…”

“I’m gonna flirt with the barmaid to get some free drinks!” Stan declared and rolled a 38 sided die; once he understood that this game involved more risk and imagination than math, he started to warm up to it, and though he would never admit it, he had fun playing pretend.

Ford chuckled and looked down at the die. “You’re successful! The barmaid is charmed by your smooth words and strong stature, and slides you a free drink, but unfortunately your score isn’t high enough to earn everyone else a drink. Your players need to recharge from battle, so everyone needs to pay one gold coin for fuel.”

“Imma get chocolate milk!” Tate cheered as he changed the amount of gold he had in his bag on his character sheet.

“Okay, everyone roll your 12 sided die.” Once all the dice were still, Ford winced at the score and said with a devilish smile, “Your cheerfulness over your victory has caught the attention of your worst, and most annoying, enemy: Probabilitor the Annoying!”

“Dang it!” Stan yelled as he popped a piece of gum into his mouth.

“He’s accompanied by his trusty eagle, perfect for capturing victims, a hot elf, and his head ogre. Seeking revenge for taking down his army of goblins, Probabilitor attacks the pub with…” Ford rolled his dice. “… a math ray! Everyone roll your D-38.”

While Stan rolled a 32 and Tate rolled a 28, Fiddleford rolled a 17 and Jackie rolled a 2. “What!?” She shrieked, having been earning low numbers the entire game. “Stan, did you load my dice!?”

“Aw, c’mon, missy,” Stan laughed. “I wouldn’t cheat… okay, but not at a nerd game. It ain’t worth my best tricks.”

“While Goldie and Tate dodged the math ray in time, Hadron and Drizzle are hit, Drizzle left weak while Hadron almost made it to safety. The eagle takes advantage and takes them in his talons, following Probabilitor into the sky as the ogre and hot elf ride on the large bird’s back. Goldie, Tate, what do you do?”

“We go after them!” Tate declared.

“What happens if we don’t?” Stan asked.

“Probabilitor will eat their brains. It’s his thing.” Ford answered.

“Fine, guess we’ll go on another quest.” Stan ruffled Tate’s hat, the two paired into a team, and Ford had them set off into the woods for their team members.

“Alright, meanwhile at the campsite,” Ford went on. “Hadron and Drizzle are tied to a tree while the hot elf readies the brain-cooking pot.”

“Hold on, ain’t there a way we can escape?” Fiddleford asked. “It’s only rope, n’ I got my dagger, remember. If it’s in my belt by my hip…”

“Good ingenuity, let’s give it a try.” Ford cleared his throat and reread the rules to make sure it was fair. “Probabilitor, distracted by picking garnishes for your brains, doesn’t notice that Hadron has a weapon he can use without his hands. Roll your D-12, you have to get a 10 or higher to be successful.”

Fiddleford blew into his fists for good luck and let his D-12 go, but then slapped his forehead and winced at the 8.

“You managed to cut some of the binding holding you and Drizzle captive, but your dagger falls from your belt and lands on the grass and out of reach. Before Drizzle can even try to get it back with her foot, Probabilitor returns to do some more annoying dragging about how he’s going to eat you.”

“If I get my eight-year-old character killed over this, Imma lose it.” Fiddleford joked; there was no way he was going to die like this, right? Right?!

“Ugh, if my hands were free I’d break every part of his face.” Jackie growled.

“Oh ho, Probabilitor is so annoying he has even invoked the wrath of the peaceful druid elf.” Ford chuckled. “Helpless for the time being, it’s up to Goldie and Tate to save them, but first they must travel through the woods and reach the campsite.”

“Okay!” Tate cheered and punched the air, ready to beat up some bad guys.

“You two are getting close to your destination, you can tell by the frequent fairy bites. When suddenly your path is blocked by a huge ogre, armed with an axe!”

“Aw, come on, Manly Dave, I thought we were cool.” Stan said sarcastically and the whole room laughed.

“‘Halt!’ Dave the Ogre says.” Ford was using a deeper, gritter voice for the ogre, making Tate grin as the narrator had a way of making the story come to life. “‘You interlopers are trespassing on the ancient forest of Probabilitor the Wizard! If ye wish to pass, first ye must complete seven unworldly quests, each more difficult than the last…’”

“I bonk him over the head with my bat!” Stan interrupted.

“Okay, one, you have a club, not a bat, Stanley,” Ford explained for the uptheenth time. “And second, you can’t…”

“Sure I can! Our team members are gonna be dead soon, we don’t have time for seven stupid quests! So I use nature’s snooze button and bonk him over the head!” Stan argued and shook his dice in his fist.

“Fine, roll your D-38…” The room gasped as Stan rolled a 36. Ford, chuckling with disbelief, said, “You bonk your club on the ogre’s head and it knocks him out cold. He’s not dead, but he won’t be walking for a long time.”

“There’s no cops in the forest.” Stan hissed to Tate. “We take this to our graves.”

The boy actually pushed his hat and bangs back to show Uncle Stan his trusty wink, making the whole room laugh.

“Very well! You are approaching the campsite!” Ford narrated with wiggling fingers. “As Goldie and Tate hide in the bushes, Probabilitor tackles.” Ford cleared his throat and made the wheeziest, annoying voice he could muster, causing Jackie to snort and cover her mouth to keep from spitting out soda. “‘And now, a little math problem! When I subtract your brains from your skulls, add salt, and divide your team, what’s the remainder?’”

“YOUR BUTT!” Tate cried out.

“‘What?!’” Ford wheezed. “‘My butt isn’t part of this particular equation!’” The whole room laughed loudly and Ford had to wait for everyone to calm down before continuing. “Though your insult may have been funny, your cover is blown. Goldie and Tate now have no choice but to battle Probabilitor for the lives of Hadron and Drizzle!”

“Yup, we’re dead.” Fiddleford said and pulled out a clean character sheet. “Better start creatin’ a new character.”

“Hey! We’ve got this, right squirt?” Stan asked as he wrapped an arm around Tate.

“Yeah!”

“Let the battle begin!” Ford placed two small figures of ogres and said, “The ogres swing first! Roll your D-38s to dodge!” Ford rolled a 13 while Stan rolled a 14.

“Goldie uses a… Shield of Shielding to, you know, shield Goldie and Tate!” Stan made up.

“Probabilitor casts a reversal spell, and…” Ford rolled a 15. “… is successful. The shield disintegrates. The ogres attack! Now you can choose to attack or…”

“Oh! Giggle time bouncy boots!” Tate yelled out. “To jump over the meanie’s heads!” Both Ford and Tate rolled, but Tate’s was higher.

“The boots work!” Ford said. “Goldie and Tate bounce to safety, missing the axes and clubs by the skin of their noses.”

“Now they use flamey swords… no! SUPER hot flamey swords!” Tate declared, getting really excited. The boy rolled a 21, Stan rolled an 18, and Ford rolled a 2.

“Incredible luck!” Ford gasp. “Your swords are so powerful they destroy the ogres in an instant!” And he swiped up the little figures. “‘Drat you!’ Probabilitor screeches. ‘You’ll never outrun my Ogre-nado!’” And Ford rolled a 30.

“Yes we will!” Tate said and hopped up on his feet, shaking the die hard. “Centaur-taur will swoop in and save Tate and Goldie!” And Tate rolled a 32.

“A what?” Fiddleford chuckled.

“A Centaur-taur.” Tate repeated and showed a drawing he had made last night when thinking of weapons and characters. It was both horrifying and impressive.

“Tate, I am so confused n’ so proud right now.” Fiddleford said thickly with shiny blue eyes.

“The Centaur-taur dashes just in time and carries Goldie and Tate to the thick of the trees, where the ogre-nado is broken and destroyed. Goldie and Tate rush back to try to free Hadron and Drizzle, but Probabilitor’s score is still too high to be defeated.” Ford rolls his D-4, D-12, and D-38 to determine which of Probabilitor’s spells or minions to use; the Quest Master’s eyes widened as this specific combination of numbers meant he had to use the most powerful monster is all of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons.

Ford grinned sheepishly, and narrates slowly for suspense, “You think all is well and good, but Probabilitor was saving the worst for last. Just before Goldie and Tate reach their team members, they’re grabbed by a huge claw with three fingers and are faced with a mouth inside of a mouth and a fiery red eye.” And Ford slammed down the biggest statue they had.

Fiddleford gasped. “The Impossi-Beast! I thought they banned this character!” He argued.

Ford shrugged. “Sorry, but this is the original 1972 version. They didn’t ban the Impossi-Beast until the second version, released in 1975.”

“It’s okay, we’ll just think of some cool weapons…”

“Ya don’t understand, son.” Fiddleford said as he gripped the boy’s shoulder. “He’s so powerful that he can only be defeated by rolling a perfect 38! If not, then we all lose our characters!”

“Rollin’ a 38?!” Tate gasped. “The odds are…”

“Hey, long odds are what you want when you’re a world-class gambler!” Stan said and took up his D-38. “C’mon, c’mon… Papa needs a new pair of… elves!” And he let go of the D-38.

Tate held onto Stan’s arm as it rolled across the floor. Fiddleford’s knees were bouncing despite being criss-cross. Jackie had her hands in her hair. Ford bit his lip, wanting his first quest with the team to be a success. The little blue die looked like it might fall on 1, but at the last second it balanced perfectly on that beautiful 38.

“WHAT?!”

Tate jumped up and down as he cheered and punched the air. “YES! Yes, yes, yes! We won! We won!”

“What do you say, buddy?” Stan asked.

“DEATH BY MUFFINS!”

“Goldie and Tate then throw magical Death Muffins into the Impossi-Beast’s mouth!” Ford narrated. “The monster explodes and Probabilitor is powerless and pathetic as always. But keeping true to his name, he annoyingly disappears into a cloud of math, promising to be back for another journey, but for now Drizzle and Hardon are free, and Goldie and Tate are upgraded to level 2 and earn twenty pieces of gold.”

“YAY!” Tate quickly scribbled down the changes on his character! “Can we go on another adventure?! Maybe we’ll find a dragon this time! I wanna try to get a Trust Arrow!”

“Unfortunately that’s all I had plan for now.” Ford held his chin and gave it some more thought. “I suppose I could…”

“Not so fast, Sixer, that’s enough nerd-game for me.” Stan stretched his arms over his head. “Ole Goldie over here’s ready for some mindless fun.”

“How about a movie?” Jackie asked and looked under the TV for the box of VCR tapes. “We’ve got The Voyages of Lionclothiclese: Clash of the Genres.”

“Oo! Put it in!”

“I haven’t seen that movie in years!” Fiddleford said excitedly as his son sat in his lap up on the couch.

Ford moved up to the couch and allowed Jackie to put the tape in the machine and soon the TV lit up with the lights and sounds of the old film. Stan had collapsed into his armchair and Jackie held her knees by her chest, sitting between the couch and the chair. Stan noticed this and shook his head discreetly. No way such a pretty woman was going to sit on the floor, even if it was carpet. 

Jackie couldn’t help but feel someone’s eyes on her, and when they looked at each other Stan gave his lap a little pat so no one else would notice. The farm-woman hesitated, but being in his hold sounded amazing, and really what did she have to lose, so she slipped up into his arms and curled up in his lap, the gang allowing the old movie to fill the atmosphere and happily distract them from the real world.


	7. Picnic Provided by Pines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the month-long hiatus. I do have big plans for this, so thank you for being patient and I hope you enjoy!

The day after the gang played Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons, Jackie found it easier to pretend everything was normal, but Stan couldn’t help but notice how she was slightly more smiley, blushy, and jumpy around him. And more flirty. A pat on the shoulder made her jump and nearly shatter a bowl in her arms at breakfast, a wink over a compliment on her oatmeal made her turn crimson, and unless his peripheral vision was off (he was fully aware he should probably buy glasses but he’d rather not look like a dork) he could have sworn that every time his eyes weren’t on Jackie, she was looking at him and smiling. Once he caught her eye before she could look away, and rather than turn into a bubbling mess, Jackie gave him a sassy wink and it was his turn to have rosy cheeks. **  
**

Jackie was confident and kept her composure like the total badass Stan knew she was. That made him smile like an idiot and he made up his mind: Jackie (probably) liked him and he really really liked her, so the first chance he got he was going to ask her out. Stan let her collect the eggs and let the sheep out of the barn while he milked the cow, brushed the horse, and let them out into the open space.

By the time Stan was done with his share of chores, Jackie was at the well and fetching the sheep their water. Stan took in a deep breath, ignored the heat on his face as he got a good view of the pretty lady bending over, and walked up to her as he cleared his throat as to not startle her. “Listen, Jackie, the other night…”

“That night you were yelling my name?” Jackie predicted with a smirk as she poured the water into her bucket.

Stan snorted. “Oh, like you weren’t practically howlin’ mine. Not that I didn’t like that.” He added, making Jackie’s stomach do a backflip with excitement.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Stan rubbed the back of his neck as they walked back to the sheep’s barn to water the fluffy animals. “I… I really like you. A lot. And, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to take you out on a date.”

Somehow Jackie managed to pour the water with steady hands. She glanced over her shoulder to find Stan… actually a blushy mess. He was poking his pointer fingers together, his shoulders were tensed and drawn in, and his face was a light shade of pink, his cheeks and ears slightly more red. She smiled at that, turned, and leaned against the fence with her elbows supporting her up. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

Stan stared at her with shiny brown eyes and the timid yet jubilant smile Jackei gave him made his confident grin return full force. “Okay then, be ready at one.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’ve been waitin’ to take you out for weeks, I ain’t waitin’ another day if you’ll have me.” Stan patted her shoulder with a teasing squeeze and said, “Meet me at the porch at one. Wear whatever you want, heck those muddy jeans n’ orange t-shirt look great to me. Just try not to eat too much until then n’ I’ll make Fiddleford watch over his kid today so we don’t have to.” And with that, before Jackie could object or thank him, he trailed his hand down her arm, took her hand, and swiftly kissed it before heading into the house to let her finish her chores.

Jackie felt like doing a cartwheel. She might try if she wasn’t sure she would land on her face stupidly, so she settled for a punch in the air and some cheers of victory.

Meanwhile Stan could hear her cheering from inside the house and he grinned stupidly, determined not to let her down.

Jackie didn’t see Stan for the rest of the morning, mostly due to both of them being so busy so they wouldn’t have to worry about chores in the afternoon, but Jackie wasn’t sure but she could have sworn that Stan was nowhere on the farm. She didn’t have time to think about his exact location; she decided to dress up a little for the date.

After changing into something more comfortable, a sunflower short-sleeved top with blue-jean shorts and red shoes, she put her long black hair up in a casual ponytail. Jackie smiled in the mirror hanging on her door and then stood on the porch to wait for Stan. Around one o’clock, Jackie finally saw him, pulling Truffles gently by some reins, the beautiful black and gray horse fully saddled and ready for a journey. The beautiful farm woman not only awed at the surprise ride, but how Stan also took the time to dress up, now bearing a baby-blue button up with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and clean jeans with his brown dress shoes, his brown hair tied back in a neat low ponytail and Jackie swore on her life that it looked like he had shaved and washed his hair.

Stan’s smile cracked with shock and then quickly recovered to see such a beautiful woman waiting for him on the porch. He held out a hand to her and said with his rough voice as soft as silk, “M’lady.”

Jackie gave him her hand. “Thank you.”

Stan carefully helped her up on Truffles, who for a wild horse stood still and calm, his tail whishing happily. Though Stan’s hands lingered on her hips longer than necessary (not that Jackie minded in the slightest), he managed to summon the strength to let her go and then hoisted himself up in front of her to lead the steed.

“So what’d you have planned?” Jackie asked.

“The best prizes in life are the surprises.” Stan quipped, a quote his mother had used a lot, and he gently flicked the reins and Truffles slowly walked away from the house and across the farm.

Jackie’s hold on her boss tightened a little, but the horse walked so steadily for a wild animal and Stan made her sure no harm would ever befall them on their short journey. Having no idea where they were going, she was a little surprised when Stan turned them around so they trotted towards the other side of the farm, near the crops and open fields. Towards the very back, where the woods began and marked the end of the Pines’ land, Jackie could see a red and white checkered blanket laid out on the soft grass, weighed down by a picnic basket and a bouquet of daisies. A soft breeze created air circulation, there was a bit of shade from the trees a few feet away, and the sun made them cozy and warm, a truly perfect day for a lunch outside.

Stan gently pulled Truffles to a stop and stopped down to offer a hand to the lady. “Stanley,” Jackie breathed. “You really… No one’s ever done anything like this for me.”

“I find that very hard to believe.” He admitted softly as he guided Jackie down and let her excitedly sit on the blanket. Stan held out the flowers to her and said quietly, “These are for you.”

With trembling hands, Jackie reached out for them, but a sudden gust of strong wind made the poor flowers fly everywhere, leaving a sad bundle of stems in Stan’s hand. He was embarrassed, face turning red as he stood stupidly bent down to her with nothing to give, but Jackie laughed happily and pointed at him. “Y-Your hair!”

Stan was confused and put a hand to it, sure a bit ruffled, but still tied together, but then his fingers touched a flower and he knew he wore a messy crown of them. He smiled at Jackie’s hair, also in a beautifully messy ponytail with flowers in it, and the whole picnic was delicately decorated with the daisies. Stan chuckled alongside her and sat on his knees to give her lunch.

Jackie’s eyes widened at the context of the picnic basket: two ham sandwiches, a plate full of crisp apples, two cans of soda, and a bottle of wine with two glasses. “This is so beautiful, Stanley.” The farmgirl complimented, completely blown away.

Stan’s ears were still red, though the rest of his face was relatively back to normal, despite the dopey grin. “Fittin’, since it’s all for a beautiful gal.” He held out a can of soda to her and she cracked it open and sipped the fizzy drink.

“Those apples from here?” Jackie asked.

“Yup,” Stan answered proudly. “Best apples in town. Ma used to make a great apple pie with ‘em.”

“I’ll definitely have to make one, one of these days.” Jackie accepted an offered fruit and was delighted by the crunch it gave when she bit into it and the sweet juice that filled her mouth.

While Jackie sat with her legs bent to the side, Stan sat on his side, a bit behind her. As they talked, she moved his free hand to her hip, letting her know that she was okay being touched, and Stan smiled and held her close.

“So, how did Ford and Fidds meet, again?”

“Oh, they were roommates in college.”

“Oh, yeah. What college did Ford go to again?”

“Backupsmore.” Stan’s expression turned a bit more gloomy and he muttered, “Kinda my fault he ended up there…”

Jackie gave him a concerned look, but smiled gently at him. “Your fault he met his best friend? I’m sure.”

Stan snorted. “I guess, sure. Well, it’s… it’s complicated.” He sighed and his presence loosened. Instead of his body being up against Jackie’s, there was now a bit of space between them, but his hand was still on her hip, so that must be a good sign, right? “J-Jackie,” Stan swallowed and spoke without looking at her. “If you… I mean, if we’re g-gonna… I… L-Look, if you’re gonna stick around n’ be ‘round me, there’s a few things you should know.”

Jackie’s smile was gone from her lips, but it lingered in her eyes. She reached for his arm, his hand too busy holding an apple, and she rubbed it and squeezed it reassuringly. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I plan to stick around for a long time, no matter what. Whatever you gotta say, I won’t judge, I swear.”

“Nothin’ serious,” Stan explained quickly. He even let his apple roll on the blanket and he took her hand. “I just mean… I mess up. A lot. Doesn’t seem to matter what I do, I always leave behind wild dumpster fires wherever I go. I try. Damnit, I really try, but that doesn’t seem to matter. I mess up a lot, Jackie, n’ sooner or later I’m gonna mess something up for you. I seem to do that to everyone I care about.”

Jackie’s throat was a little tight; she was beyond surprised to hear such hateful words come from Stan’s mouth and directed at himself. She wanted to say something assuring and helpful, but he spoke again first.

“I mean, maybe that’s why I didn’t have many friends growin’ up. They all knew that I was no good to nobody, n’ it was probably only cuz we’re twins, but Ford’s always been there. Always. We used to dream of gettin’ outta here n’ explorin’ the world, maybe on a boat. We’d never seen the ocean, but it sounded really cool. We were inseparable, n’ nothin’ changed in high-school. Sure I got my fair share of trouble, but when your brother’s the smartest kid in school, you always got a leg up on the competition. You already know how smart Ford is, but what you don’t know is that for our senior year science fair he won first prize with a something-something motion machine. Some sort of high-tech thing that made all the teachers go bananas. The principal even caught wind that some people from a really big college in California were interested. Some college called West Coast Tech.”

“Where they turn science-fiction into science-fact?” Jackie asked.

“That’s the one. Anyway, college had never really been on my mind, y’know? I wasn’t smart enough for it, but Ford was, n’ I guess I wasn’t surprised when the guy was excited n’ wanted to go, but it still kinda hurt that he was so quick to leave he behind. I guess I really wanted to head out on my own, I could, but what was the point in that? It really boiled down to that I just wanted to be there for him, but I… I messed up. Big time.

“I just finished detention ‘n wandered into the gym where the science fair was. I wanted to tear that dumb machine apart, but I just couldn’t do it. Ford had worked so hard, so I turned to leave, but it was dark n’ I didn’t see the table in front of me n’ I fell back to try to keep from crashin’. That made me bump Ford’s table n’ then the machine was smokin’ n’ a vent or something had knocked off. I was freaking out n’ I tried to fx it, though I had when I put the piece back on n’ it stop smokin’, but then the next day Ford came home and was spittin’ mad.

“I had never seen Sixer so angry before. He knew I did it cuz I had dropped toffee peanuts at the scene n’ I ate him all the time. Not only that, he thought I did it on purpose so he wouldn’t leave for college. I told him that it was an accident n’ that I was sorry, but Pa had heard it all n’ grabbed me n’ almost kicked me out he was so angry, but Ford stepped in n’ Ma stepped in, too, n’ that was that. 

“I did everything I could to help him get into a good school, even worked two jobs to buy him that truck so he could have something to drive to school in. It never felt enough, but thank Moses Ford got into a good college. Sure it was a ‘everyone is welcome’ kinda place, but it was cheap, in California, n’ had tons of different stuff Ford could get into, n’ so for four years he only came home for the holidays n’ half of the summers n’ he earned himself 12 PhDs.” Stan’s face dropped even more, grim and sad as he let slip, “Can’t help but wonder if he’d be better off if I hadn’t… if I wasn’t around.”

“No.” Jackie interrupted so firmly that Stan glanced up at her, expecting to find her angry, but she had a soft expression on her beautiful face with fiery eyes. “He wouldn’t be better off without you. No one knows for sure the difference one person or action or word can make, and I don’t think we’re ever supposed to know. Point is, your family, and I can tell that you two love each other very much. He needs you, you need him, and…” Jackie licked her bottom lip nervously before adding haphazardly, “And I need you.”

Stan’s face was red again, matching the apples from their picnic. But he managed a smile and he kissed her hand to show his gratitude. “Thanks.”

A bit tired thanks to the release of emotional baggage, the warmth of the sun, and the work of the day, Stan laid on his back, his hand still on Jackie’s waist, and he closed his eyes to enjoy himself. Jackie smiled at how cute he looked, so relaxed, and she took this as an opportunity to snuggle up against him, lying her head over his chest and placing a hand over his beer belly. Stan’s eyes flew open at this and he dared not move as he glanced down and found Jackie smiling peacefully, her breathing slowing down as a sign of forthcoming sleep.

Stan moved his arms so it wrapped around her comfortably and he snuck a kiss in her black hair as he started to drift away.

“WATCH OUT!”

Immediately Stan grabbed Jackie and rolled them both out of the way, seconds from being crushed by a giant vampire bat that pounced on the picnic and tore the blanket to shreds. Truffles cried out and ran towards the barn for cover. It roared and hissed at Stan and Jackie, the farmer holding his assistant protectively in his big arms, but a giant net landed on it and it snarled at the two men tugging at the net, pulling the monster away from the love birds.

“Gotcha!” Fiddleford gritted through his teeth and only appeared worried when the bat sprouted it’s wings through the holes of the net and took off towards the sky with the scientists with it.

Panting and trying to steady their racing hearts, Stan looked down at Jackie, his hold still strong and tight. “Are you okay?’

“Yeah, I’m fine, you?” Jackie asked, checking over him to make sure he didn’t get scratched or something.

“No, I’m okay.” Stan glanced up at the empty sky and growled, “Although they won’t be when I’m done with them.”

Jackie looked up and around for them as she asked, “Should we give them a hand?”

“Nah, they got it. They’ll live.” Stan whistled and Truffles cautiously trotted towards them, on the lookout for any danger.

“Well, I think the couch isn’t broken if you’d rather take a nap there.” Jackie suggested with a sly, suggestive smile, and Stan grinned and stood with an extended hand for her.


End file.
